


The End Shall Come And We Will Dance Forever

by Makoto_Sagara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU after OotP, F/F, F/M, Het, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Slash, Spoilers, femme slash, ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 85,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makoto_Sagara/pseuds/Makoto_Sagara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7th year, based off of OotP, ignoring HBP and DH. When Harry is faced with his greatest enemy, will he have enough to kill? Or will it be the end of The Boy Who Lived? And how will his relationships change before the final confrontation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue – The Beginning of the End is Not A Dream

**Title:** The End Shall Come, and We Will Dance Forever  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive:** My site, Fanfiction-dot-net, Foreverfandom-dot-net  
 **Category:** Angst, Drama  
 **Pairings:** Unknown  
 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**A/N:** What part of ‘I need a break from writing fanfiction before I go insane’ is so hard for a muse to understand? It must be the insane part. My three certainly are insane as it is. Okay, the first paragraph for this piece came from a girl off of the gw-fan mailing list. I don’t know why my brain processed this as a Harry Potter fic, but I don’t really care. The girl was giving it away for usage, and my muses thought it would be wonderful to use. Hence my doing of this… I think I really am insane. (Sigh.)

** Prologue – The Beginning of the End is Not A Dream **

He hurt. Oh Merlin, he hurt. Pain radiated through his body, blending with the ache of a stomach that has been empty for too long. He couldn't remember the last time he ate or even slept as he pushed himself to keep going, placing one foot in front of the other to escape the slaughter and senseless violence that had surrounded him and tried to pull him under. Barely healed cuts and gashes were rubbed by blood soaked clothing as he moved, adding to the pain in his body. Stumbling, he barely caught himself before he fell, and forced his weary body onward. If he fell, he wasn't going to be moving for a long time, and he wasn't safe yet. He could still hear the sounds of fighting, yelling, and dying, but he wasn't sure if it was all part of his exhausted mind. Until he knew he was safe from the carnage, he had to keep moving.

If only he knew where Dumbledore was, then he knew he'd be able to collapse like he so yearned. If only his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hadn't been so adamant that he leave. If only... If only... If only he'd been able to grow up as a normal child, with parents who loved him, with brothers and sisters, with love... If only a billion things had been different... But they weren't.

He was the great and wonderful, or horrid and a large impediment, depending on whom you asked, Harry Potter. Saviour of the Wizarding world. The proverbial thorn in Voldemort's side. A seventeen year old man so full of hatred, rage, and sorrow that he barely kept it in check. And he'd never asked for any of it.

All he had ever wanted was a way to get away from his horrid aunt and uncle and his unbearable cousin Dudley. He never wanted to know that his birth had marked a change in the balance of power between good and evil. He never wanted the responsibility, the burden, the never-ending dread. He just waned to be a normal teenager, to find someone who he loved and loved him, and to be happy.

A sudden flash, followed by screams of agony and peals of maniacal laughter, had Harry more alert than he’d been moments before. His wand was out and ready for use as his eyes raked over his surroundings wearily. The shrieks of small children and their parents mingled with the bursts of hysterical pleasures all around him, until that was the only thing that seemed real. And he knew that that was the greatest irony of all.

To think that Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie were all too far away for him to see made his chest and throat tighten, but he knew that this was no time to start crying, and still he trudged forward. There would never be a time where he could shed tears. Not until Voldemort was dead, and even then he knew there was no guarantee that he would live through that. How he longed for someone else to share at least a sliver of the anguish that was his life.

He realized that his thoughts were going around in circles and he couldn’t help but give a bitter smile. He knew that he was not alone and that this was the last time he’d face this opponent. “This will be my graveyard, won’t it, Voldemort?” Harry asked, firing his only chance at living, the ultimate unforgivable curse, _Adava Kedavra_.


	2. Chapter One ~ Well, Reality Sucks

**Title:** The End Shall Come, and We Will Dance Forever

 **Author:** Makoto Sagara

 **Series:** Harry Potter

 **Archive:** MakotoSagara-dot-net, Fanfiction-dot-net, Foreverfandom-dot-net

 **Category:** Angst, Drama

 **Pairings:** Unknown

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP

 **Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **A/N:** Well, it seems that everyone liked the prologue of this. I don’t know what came over me to actually write a Harry Potter fic, but it looks like it turned out well. What can I say? I like angst. I’m good at angst. It’s what I know. Now, let’s see what my three darned muses do with this fic.

** Chapter One: Well, Reality Sucks ** **  
**

 

Harry woke up drenched in sweat, his forehead aching with as if a whole marching band was playing and a rock concert was going on behind his eyes at the same time. He lifted a pale, shaking hand to his brow, wiping away the moisture with a deep sigh. Belatedly, he realized that it had all been a dream. He hadn’t been facing Voldemort on a battlefield of misery. Dumbledore wasn’t missing. His friends were where they were supposed to be; in fact, he could hear the snores from both Ron and Seamus as they slept in the dormitory with Dean, Neville, and himself.   
  
Groping in the semi-dark, Harry managed to obtain his glasses and put them on. He pushed the bed curtains back, sending an unkind stream of sunlight into his sore eyes. As he sat there, blinking, he realized that the snoring that was beside him a second ago had stopped.  
  
"'Arry, you okay?" Ron croaked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine, Ron. Go back to sleep." The black-haired boy bit back on the sigh that was threatening to spill out anyway. Letting it go, Harry swung his legs over the edge of his bed and moved to his trunk, picking out a fresh change of clothes and his toiletries.   
  
"You sure you're okay?" Ron's voice was close behind the green-eyed boy, much to his surprising annoyance.  
  
"No, but I'm going to take a shower. Meet you down in the Great Hall for breakfast." With that, Harry was out of the dorm room and heading towards the boys' bathroom.  
  
Letting the hot water cascade down his lanky form, Harry tried to ignore the nearly tear-wrenching pain from the scar on his forehead. He rubbed at it absently, replaying the dream in his mind again. It had felt so real. Of course, everything that had to deal with Voldemort recently felt real. Not that he hadn’t had this problem before, but Harry refused to let a dream that felt so real rule him again. The last time, it had cost him the life of the last of his family, his godfather, Sirius Black.  
  
Even though Dumbledore had told him not to blame himself, that the Headmaster was more to blame, Harry couldn’t help it. If only he hadn’t let Voldemort use him. If only he had tried with Occlumency. If only he had done something different. If only….   
  
He sighed, realizing that he was doing the same thing he’d accused himself of in his dream. Placing himself in the middle of fruitless questioning of his actions. Hermione had told him that it was normal to question everything around him after something like this, but he didn’t feel normal. He never had, and he wished that he had had the chance. But then, something that Dumbledore told him rushed to the front of his mind. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been Neville.  
  
Neville Longbottom, saviour of the Wizarding world. It was kind of scary when he thought about it like that. But then again, he didn’t want to be known as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived or Saviour of anything.   
  
With a frustrated growl, Harry hit the wall of the shower. “God damned Voldemort!”  
  
His shout was followed by a few sharp intakes of breath from the other boys in the bathroom, and with a snarl, he finished rinsing his hair and dressed quickly. The whole time he was in there, he could feel the eyes of the three first years by the sink on him. Not that he wasn’t used to it by now. Ever since he reappeared in the Wizarding world, someone was always staring at him, and it was usually accompanied by whispering, and sometimes snickering.  
  
Of course, the snickering was always closely followed by Malfoy’s sneer or voice, trying to bait Harry into hitting him. Not that Harry didn’t want to do it again. It had felt so good to just punch him in their fifth year. However, spending any more time in detention with any teacher wasn’t exactly how he was looking forward to spending his last year at Hogwarts.  
  
His sixth year had ended up seeing the death of Professor McGonagall. Since then, the school had settled down, but the Wizarding world was shaken to its very core. Voldemort was back, and there was no avoiding it. Too many people had begun disappearing or dying, just like the last time that He had come into power.  
  
Why had he returned? Why was the school still open? Why hadn’t Dumbledore gone underground by now? When was Voldemort going to strike again?  
  
Those questions plagued the teenager as he entered the Great Hall. It was probably the emptiest he’d ever seen it, outside of the winter holidays. Most noticeably was the decrease in the Slytherin table. There were maybe fifty students sitting at the long banquet table, when there should have been close to two hundred. Of course, it wasn’t surprising that most of the children missing from that house were children of known Death Eaters or sympathizers.  
  
However, Slytherin wasn’t the only house that had taken a blow in numbers. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were missing at least one hundred students as well, and Gryffindor was missing over seventy-five percent of its previous years’ numbers. There would be no Quidditch this year, and it wasn’t because of a famous tournament. Snape was gone as well. They’d met his replacement the night before, an older man that had been the Potions professor before the greasy git. Harry couldn’t even remember the man’s name over the searing pain from his scar.  
  
Last year, Dumbledore had told him it would be useless for him to take Occlumency again. Instead, Harry had spent most of the sixth year, and summer after it, preparing for when he would face his mortal enemy. Most of the time was spent thinking, “How does one prepare to die and/or kill? How do you make that okay with yourself?”  
  
“Harry? Are you alright?” Hermione asked, taking a seat next to her friend. “Ron said you had another nightmare.” She glared at him as he gave her astounded look. “It’s no use trying to hide it from us. We’ve been there from the beginning.” She leaned in close to him and began whispering. “Was it about Voldemort?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well?” Ron had come to side on Harry’s other side, noticing that they were left all to themselves, even by Ginny, who’d somewhat become a part of their little group last year. She seemed to be talking to Neville and Luna Lovegood, who’d decided that eating at the Gryffindor table was better than with the boring Hufflepuffs.  
  
“I’d rather not talk about it right now, Ron.” Harry snuck a look up at the teachers’ table, noticing the gap where McGonagall should have been. Everyone in the Great Hall quieted down as they noticed Dumbledore stand up and clear his throat.  
  
“In light of recent events, all of your classes will be shared with those in the same year. Hagrid is now passing out your schedules. Please keep in mind that we are hoping that you find a way to remain harmonious and cordial during class time,” the old wizard said, straightening his spectacles on his nose. “Also, your new Transfiguration professor has just arrived. It seems her cat caught on fire and she was unavoidably detained last night.”   
  
He gestured to a slight woman with brown, curly hair, glasses and very neat looking blue robes that was entering the Great Hall through the door the teachers used. “Please join me in welcoming Professor Swanly. She will also be acting as Gryffindor’s Head of House.” Only Professor Dumbledore and a few Hufflepuffs bothered clapping. “Also, I would like for you to welcome back Professor Lupin as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Cheers and whooping came from fifth and sixth years at the Gryffindor table for the haggard-looking man, who waved and sat down to breakfast. “Now, let’s enjoy this meal and begin our day.”  
  
“So, Lupin came back, did he? Isn’t that a major blow to the Order of the Phoenix? With him here, Snape missing, and McGonagall gone,” Ron asked as he stuffed his face with poached eggs.  
  
“Snape’s not missing. He’s back with Voldemort! So is Malfoy. Don’t be so dumb, Ron,” Harry said, irritated, picking at his food but not really eating anything.  
  
“There’s no need to be irritated with us, Harry,” Hermione responded, sighing and pushing her plate away. “Who is this Professor Swanly? I’ve never heard of her. She looks sort of…. Cross.”  
  
“I’d say she has a bigger stick up her bum than even McGonagall,” Ron added.  
  
“Is that how you talk about the dead?” Harry asked, jumping up from the table and storming out.  
  
“What?” the redhead asked around a mouthful of oatmeal.  
  
“Oh, really!” Hermione got up and followed after her friend to talk to him privately. Sometimes, Ron just didn’t get it.  
  
TBC


	3. Chapter Two ~ Dreams Be Dreams

Title: The End Shall Come, and We Will Dance Forever  
Author: Makoto Sagara  
Series: Harry Potter  
Archive: MakotoSagara-dot-net, Fanfiction-dot-net, Foreverfandom-dot-net  
Category: Angst, Drama  
Pairings: Unknown  
Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP  
  
Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?  
  
A/N: So, um, I… _kinda_ forgot about this fic. I mean, I remembered, but it was just difficult for me to find a way to keep up with it while working on my other fics and things. So, it sat on a back burner. However, my friend Angel started me reading HP fics again, centering on Harry/Draco pairings, and the muses want to play. So, here we are. Enjoy!

** Chapter Two – Dreams Be Dreams **

Harry strolled through the halls of Hogwarts on the first Saturday of the school year, taking in the familiar sights, but not really seeing them. He’d left Hermione in the library, researching something or other. He wasn’t even sure what anymore. Ron was probably playing Wizarding chess in the Gryffindor common room, with Neville, Seamus or Dean. It didn’t matter at that moment. His hands were buried in the pockets of his school robes, and his mind was a million miles away.

School was weird. No Slytherins or Snape to piss him off. Lupin was back to teach great DAtD classes again. Potions class was stomach-able with Slughorn teaching. Transfiguration wasn’t nearly as good as he remembered it, but Professor Swanly was a decent teacher and she was trying to be a great Head of House. But, mostly, it was just strange to go to Potions or Herbology and not have Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and the other Slytherins there to make life miserable.

However, his dreams were becoming increasingly confusing and angering. When he wasn’t dreaming of the night Sirius died in the Ministry or of something Voldemort was doing, he was plagued of the former confrontations between himself and Malfoy. The blond prat always showed up with that sneer that made Harry want to punch his face off or with a smirk that made his blood boil. And without a doubt, every single time, he woke up aroused. Painfully aroused. He couldn’t… No, he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

He looked around and noticed that he was in the hallway where Barty Crouch, disguised as Professor Moody, had transfigured Malfoy into a ferret and bounced him off the walls. The memory made him smile for a minute before his body let him know that the brief flash of blond-white hair and grey eyes he’d had was turning him on. “Potter,” the familiar voice drawled, making him turn, hand on his wand and ready for anything.

“Malfoy?” And there he was, alone, sneer in place, clothes disheveled. “What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that I answered to you, Potter,” Malfoy answered. “Where is Professor Dumbledore?”

“Dumbledore? What do you want with him?” Harry’s grip on his wand grew tighter and he withdrew it from his pocket.

“Again, Potter, I don’t answer to you.” Grey eyes flashed dangerously, and Harry felt a spark of excitement at the other boy’s reaction. And as suddenly as the danger appeared on the blond’s face, it disappeared. “Too much time around the Mudbloods has made you stupid, I see,” he drawled, his face a mask of indifference once again. He gathered himself to his full height and pushed past Harry down the hall.

That brief, unexpected touch set Harry’s blood on _fire_. ‘Oh, Merlin, am I really _attracted_ to Draco _Malfoy?’_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He was the last person that Draco had wanted to see as he reentered Hogwarts. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived… The Boy-Who-Haunted-His-Dreams-Lately seemed more appropriate. In fourth year, Draco had come to terms that he just wasn’t attracted to girls. Dating Pansy was what was expected of him, so he did it. Besides, his father had ordered him to do so. He knew his role as a pure blood was that he was to get married to the right girl, conceive at least one heir to the Malfoy line, keep up public appearances, and not to dally with anyone of the _wrong_ kind. However, all of the pure blood females he knew were either insipid like Pansy, ugly like Millicent Bulstrode, or insane like his crazy aunt Bellatrix.

Draco shuddered at the thought of his aunt. Her eyes burned with an unnatural fire that actually frightened him. And her husband and brother-in-law were just as off-kilter as she was. The fact that the last four months had found them as ‘guests’ of his father in one of their many estates, along with the Dark Lord, had made his blood run cold.

He’d been told that he was expected to take the Dark Mark and serve his father’s Master, or he could spy on what the stupid followers of Dumbledore were doing at Hogwarts. He’d chosen the spy option. It was the only way that he was going to get away from his family and that… creature they served. The only difficult part about it was that he’d had to leave his mother behind.

Gods, how he’d argued with his mother to just leave England… He’d begged, pleaded, bargained, and anything else he could think of, and still she stayed, as attached to his worthless father as ever. Most people thought that Narcissa Black had married Lucius Malfoy because she’d been ordered to do so, and while that was true, they didn’t know that his mother actually _loved_ his father. It was disturbing. She loved him, and she told Draco that he was the product of a marriage of love and obligation. The thought felt like acid on his tongue.

Of course, the reason it disgusted him was the way his father used that knowledge to further his own ends. When he’d been thrown into Azkaban at the end of his fifth year, his mother had actually worried herself so sick that she’d had to be hospitalized at St. Mungo’s for the entire summer before sixth year. And when the news that the Death Eaters imprisoned had broken free, he’d received a letter from Malfoy Manor telling him that his mother was well again and with his father.

So, it hadn’t surprised him that over Christmas holidays that Lucius had made his position with the Dark Lord plain and upfront. He’d told his son, point blank, that he would either become a Death Eater himself or a spy for Voldemort’s forces, or Narcissa would find herself no longer among the living. But Snape had intervened, for a bit. His godfather had tried to reason with Lucius about the ridiculousness of the entire ordeal, and Malfoy Sr. seemed to find some rationale behind Severus’ words. But it hadn’t lasted long. Before the end of school last year, Professor McGonagall had ended up dead trying to protect Dumbledore and Snape had had to go underground. That had left Draco at his father’s mercy, which Lucius was not known for possessing.

That was how he’d found himself in this wretched predicament. Truly, he wanted to find a dark, quiet corner of the Slytherin dungeons and just cry. But, weakness and failure were not tolerated by the Dark Lord and his followers. And if he’d had to endure the Cruciatus Curse one more time, he’d go mad. Or the screams of his mother at the hands of his father and aunt…

He knew he had to stop, or else. Even his usual banter with Potter was only half-enjoyed. Those green eyes had widened as Draco startled him, bringing home the fact that they were so large, even behind his ridiculous Muggle glasses. That intensity and the way his full lips moved as he spoke made the blond shift in discomfort even now.

Slowly, Draco was coming to terms that he was unusually attracted to Harry Potter, his long-time rival and all-around goody-two-shoes git. He stopped in the hallway before the statue of the gargoyle and leaned against the wall to school his features. Unfortunately, green eyes flashed into his mind and he felt his body twitch in arousal. ‘Really? Potter, of all the people in school, I had to be attracted to _him?_ ’

Shaking his head in frustration, Draco searched the hallways for any signs of the Headmaster. After a few moments, the trademark meter long beard was spotted and the blond boy had to take a deep breath before stepping away from the wall. “Headmaster, I need to speak to you,” he said quietly.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy, I’ve been expecting you for some time.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I just don’t get it, Harry,” Hermione said from behind her book. Harry had headed to the library after his confrontation, as it were, with Draco and found the girl at her normal table in the corner, bushy hair poking from behind a massive tome. “Why in the world would…?” She frowned, her features pinching in an uncomfortable expression. “You don’t think…?”

“…That he’s a Death Eater?” Harry finished for her, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “I dunno, Hermione.” He took a deep breath as he thought carefully over what was said and done. “He seemed just like normal.” He sighed. ‘The only thing different was _my_ reaction to him.’

“Well,” she started, drawing a lip between her teeth as she thought, “the only solution would be to watch him, closely.”

Those words sent a spark of excitement down Harry’s spine and his breathing quickened before he could gain control. In his brain flashed the memory of dangerous, steely eyes and blond hair framing a patrician face. ‘God, it’s true. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?’

“Harry?” He blinked and looked up into his worried friend’s face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, forget it.” He stood and stomped out of the library, ignoring the glare that Madam Pince threw at his exit. He could hear Hermione following, but he didn’t want to tell her what was wrong. As quickly as he could, he sprinted down the hall and slipped into an empty classroom, softly shutting the door behind him. He slid to the floor, closing his eyes and forcing his breathing to normal. “What am I going to do?”

“Do about what, Harry?” The voice was familiar, feminine, and like a warm caress and a smack all in one. Harry snapped his head up and met the warm, brown eyes of Ginny Weasley. “What’s the matter?” She looked around, red hair moving like warm flames around her face and shoulders. “Where are my brother and Hermione?”

“G-ginny?” The girl blinked before smiling at him. “What are you doing in here?”

“The same thing could be said for you, Harry,” she answered, amusement very evident in her voice. “But, I was actually waiting for Luna and Padma Patil.”

“Oh,” he said lamely, a slight blush creeping up his neck and face.

“What’s wrong, Harry? You’re flushed. Did you have a fight with my brother already?” She knelt before the boy, her eyes showing her concern.

“No, Ron and I are okay,” he said, turning his head from the intense look the girl who he’d dated off and on last year. Part of his mind was remembering the way she’d felt in his arms and the way she tasted, and another part was wondering how Draco would measure up. That thought made his blush deepen. “I-” He closed his eyes as his voice cracked on that one word and took a deep breath. “I just wanted to be alone for a minute. I didn’t know you were in here.” He stood up to leave, but Ginny’s small, warm hand on his robe sleeve stopped him.

“You can stay here,” she whispered uncomfortably. “I know I was the one who broke up with you last year. I was just hoping that we could still be friends.” Before he could say anything, someone knocked on the door and Luna’s dreamy voice and that of Padma could be heard on the other side. “Oh, I guess I’ll just leave you. ‘Bye, Harry.” The door opened, she slipped out and it slammed shut behind her.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment before sitting down at one of the dusty desks and put his head on his folded arms. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. He missed Ginny and her warm, familiar feel in his arms, and he seriously regretted the fact that she decided she’d rather be with Luna than him. Just seeing her alone like this was so difficult. But, the part of his mind that wondered about Draco reveled in the fact that he was single and that the blond was back in the school with him, and without his cronies. So lost in his thoughts was Harry that he didn’t hear as the door opened behind him. It wasn’t until the other person shut the door that he sat up straight and turned around. Only to look directly into silvery-grey eyes.

TBC


	4. Chapter Three ~ From Where I'm Standing

Title: The End Shall Come and We Will Dance Forever  
Author: Makoto Sagara  
Series: Harry Potter  
Archive: fanfiction.net, afallenangel.net/makotosagara/, mediaminer.org, Foreverfandom.net, makochanupdates.livejournal.com; anywhere else, please ask  
Category: Angst, Drama  
Pairings: Unknown  
Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP  
  
Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?  
  
A/N:  I read some very, very awesome HP fics recently and I just couldn’t help to fight with this thing again. So, yeah…. I think it’s going to become my new favorite thing to work on for a while. Enjoy, yeah, because the muses are having fun with the Bretons involved in this fic. >> I worry.

** Chapter Three – From Where I’m Standing **

Draco hadn’t really had much opportunity to ever speak to Dumbledore alone before this very strange meeting. Usually, all of his disciplinary concerns had been handled by Snape, but Slughorn was now Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. He’d never met the man and didn’t feel as if he could confide anything to him. Besides, if he was to get out of the very dangerous situation he found himself currently in, the Headmaster was Draco’s only hope.

In fact, this was the first time that Draco had even been in the Headmaster’s office. While he tried to find the words to speak to the older man, he took in his surroundings. There were many silvery, moving contraptions of dubious nature, a perch where his infamous phoenix sat, bookshelves that covered walls and were stuffed with books and the contraptions, the Sorting Hat, and behind the man’s desk, mounted on the one spot of the walls not covered with a portrait of a former Headmaster or Headmistress, was the famous Sword of Gryffindor. The overall feel of the room made the Slytherin extremely uncomfortable, even disregarding the roaring fire and the Headmaster’s warm smile and twinkling eyes.

“Sir,” Draco started uncomfortably, inwardly cursing the fact that he couldn’t find his words easily. “I understand that you have no reason to trust me right now.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I am unaware that I should have any reason to distrust you,” Dumbledore said, his voice that kind, grandfatherly tone that usually set Draco’s teeth on edge. “Is there some reason that I should?”

“You know who my father is, Headmaster.”

“Of course, I do. I remember Lucius very well when he was a student here, in fact.” Dumbledore leaned forward and pressed the bowl of yellow candies on his desk in the younger man’s direction. “However, I also am aware that one’s parents don’t necessarily make for accurate descriptions of their children.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’ve heard about your father, Percival.”

Dumbledore’s face scrunched up into a brief frown. “Yes, that was a very unfortunate circumstance. But, I do believe we were discussing why I shouldn’t trust you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Please call me by my first name, Sir.” Draco sighed quietly, part of him relieved that the distraction had been so quickly rebuffed. “I hadn’t said that you shouldn’t, Sir. I only mentioned that you’d be disinclined to do so because of my father and his associations.”

“Well, Draco, as I was saying before, you are not your father. However, judging from past behaviour, I was under the impression that you might have shared his proclivities.”

“I… I’m not sure about that anymore, Headmaster.” Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “At this point in time, the Dark Lord, my aunt Bellatrix, and the other Death Eaters are currently in residence at one of my father’s houses. Not Malfoy Manor, but one of the country estates in Somerset.”

“I… I see.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes narrowed and his smile faded. “And why did you bring this information to me, Draco?”

“I didn’t know where else to go. As far as I know, Aunt Bella and Father are taking turns torturing my mother to get my compliance. The Dark Lord gave me the choice to either join his ranks or I could come here and spy.” The blond pushed up the left sleeve of his robe, showing flawless, pale skin. “I chose the latter, but I would rather not do that either.”

“And what do you hope to gain from telling me this, Mr. Malfoy? Protection? I can certainly give you that here, but I cannot say that I would be able to protect your mother.”

“Mother decided to stay with my father on her own,” Draco said with a sneer. “I am merely trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“Self-preservation is what you are seeking then? It is one of the more laudable traits of your House.” The old man’s eyes slid shut and his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “What would you like for me to do for you, Draco?”

“Headmaster, I would like the sanctuary of Hogwarts, if at all possible,” Draco said, surprised that such words flowed from his mouth effortlessly. “And I would like to help in any way that I can.”

“Well, you are still Prefect of your House, as there are no other members of your house that are seven years. There are very few six years as well, if I can recall correctly. We have put most seven years together for classes. I will have Professor Slughorn give you a schedule.” The older wizard looked at Draco, and the teenager felt as if he was examining the inner reaches of his soul. “I hope that there will be no trouble with the other Houses.”

“You mean, of course, the Gryffindors,” Draco snarled, contempt lacing his words now.

“No, Mr. Malfoy, you misunderstand. I meant with _all_ the other Houses. Since Voldemort’s return,” Draco flinched at the name, “the other students have been very aggressive towards Slytherin students who speak out of line.” The blond nodded, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. “Now, how often are you to report into Voldemort?”

“I am to give a weekly report, unless something unusual happens, and then I am to report immediately.”

“Of course.” Dumbledore stood and began to pace before his fireplace. “Do you have any specific instructions? Perhaps having to do with Muggle-born students or Harry Potter?”

“I’m supposed to behave as I would if this was a normal year, but I don’t see how that’s going to happen if there’s hardly anyone in my House to socialize with.”

“Yes, Slytherins aren’t really known for mingling with the other Houses… I don’t have to tell you that Quidditch matches have been cancelled this year. You’re an intelligent young man. Professor Swanly has replaced Professor McGonagall.” Draco noticed the look of pain on the old man’s face as he said that, but made no comment. “My suggestion is that you report to Professor Slughorn, you will find him in the Potions classroom, I don’t doubt, and speak with him regarding your class schedule. You will also have to speak to the other professors to get any classwork or homework that you have missed. You have all of your belongings, I take it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, good.” The Headmaster stopped in front of the chair that Draco was sitting in and looked at him carefully. “I don’t wish to offend you, Draco, but I will have you watched.”

“I expected nothing less, Headmaster.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you have returned, my boy. Please, report to Slughorn and enjoy the rest of the weekend.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Draco stood and Dumbledore moved so that the boy could leave his office. Before he left, the blond turned to stare at the Headmaster. “Sir?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And feel free to come and speak to me if you have any difficulties.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

After his conversation with the Headmaster, Draco breezed through the halls of Hogwarts as he had the previous six years, ignoring all the hostile glares and whispers of the other students. He made his way to the dungeons and knocked on the familiar door to the Potions class, half expecting to hear Snape’s cold voice and saddened when he heard the happy tones of Slughorn. “Professor, the Headmaster told me to come to you.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy. The Headmaster told me that you had arrived and needed your schedule and other things,” Slughorn replied jovially, looking up from a pile of essays. “Please, come in, my boy.”

Draco carefully entered, warily watching the old man as he rooted through the piles of parchment on his desk. “Here, here it is.” He handed the blond the familiar schedule and another parchment with assignments hastily scrawled on it. “Those, of course, are the things that we have worked on in the last week. Review, as you can see, but necessary all the same. The practicals you can make up in your free time, as long as you clear them with me first. I’ll give you until the end of next weekend to have them done. Can’t give you special treatment, after all.”

“Thank you, Sir.” He glanced at the classwork and homework assignments quickly. There were two potions he had to brew that would take a few hours to make and hand in and an essay dealing with the usages of dragon’s blood. “Is the room for the seventh year boys available for usage?”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy, although you will be the only one living there. None of your year mates returned.” Slughorn’s happy attitude died. “I’m sure that the Headmaster explained that all seventh year students will be sharing classes this year?”

“Yes, he did, Sir.”

“Good. Mr. Malfoy, I do hope that you know that you can come to me if you wish to talk about anything? I may not be as helpful as Professor Snape was, but that does not mean that I don’t care.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Draco answered carefully, eyeing the frowning man before him. “I will see you Monday afternoon then.”

“Good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco spent the next hour and a half speaking to his professors and getting assignments. He was lucky enough to be able to get cooperative staircases and to just miss Peeves the Poltergeist, who managed to get his grubby, ghostly hands on a group of Hufflepuff second years. After looking at all the assignment parchments he’d received, he decided to head to the library to see if there were any books that he could use for his Potions essay. And that was when he saw Potter talking to the Mudblood, Granger. They seemed to be arguing lowly, and then Potter stomped out.

Curious, Draco followed the black-haired boy through the halls to a supposedly empty classroom. He cast a Concealing charm on himself, listening to a conversation between the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel girl. He was surprised to see Loony Lovegood and one of the Patil twits coming down the hall and knock on the door. The female Weasley left with the other girls and before the door to the classroom shut completely, Draco slipped in. He watched the other boy as he rested his head on his arms on top of one of the desks. After a few minutes of just watching him, Draco shut the door, loudly, to get his attention and dropped the charm. And then, he was faced with the green eyes that stalked his dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He was absolutely the _last_ person Harry wanted to see when he was moping over Ginny and their lost relationship. Ferret Face had absolutely no clue about how to stay lost, did he? And yet, there he was. And somehow, Harry wasn’t nearly as annoyed as he should have been. That was, until he opened his mouth.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your entourage, Potter,” the blond drawled effortlessly. “Did you have a fight with your little friends?”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry shot back.

“Tsk, tsk, such language; if only Professor McGonagall were here to take off House points.”  Before Harry knew what he was doing, he’d jumped from his chair and was punching Draco, yelling wordlessly. He could feel the other boy’s nose crunch under his fist and the sob of pain before he let up. His hand was covered in crimson liquid, and the other boy’s face was already starting to bruise. “Get off!”

Harry felt his anger simmer down as he watched as the blood poured from Malfoy’s nose and lips. It was then that he realized that he was panting as if he’d been running a marathon and he could feel cool sweat slide down the back of his shirt.

The other boy brought out his wand, but Harry had his out before. “Don’t even try it, Malfoy,” he snarled, his anger rising back and a Stunning spell on his tongue to be used if there was any movement from the other boy.

“Ugh, stupid Gryffindor, I have to repair my nose,” the blond said, tapping his wand against his squashed nose and swollen lips. The sound of bones realigning made both boys cringe. “What is your problem?”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about McGonagall like that, you bloody prat!”

“Well, I _am_ bloody now, thanks to you,” Malfoy snarled, casting a Cleaning Charm to get rid of the red staining his face and clothing. “And, I apologize.”

Harry blinked, not sure that he could trust what his ears just heard. “What?”

“I forgot that she died at the end of last year,” the blond said quietly.

“She didn’t die, Malfoy. Snape _murdered_ her, in front of me!” His rival turned his face away, a flush creeping up his neck. “Not that I expect you to care.”

“Potter, believe it or not, I didn’t hate that woman. She was a good teacher.”

“Whatever,” Harry spat out, standing and moving as far from the other boy as he could, keeping a close watch over his wand hand, and keeping his own at the ready. “Why are you here?”

“The last time I checked, Hogwarts was my school as well, unless you’ve forgotten.”

“Why are you _here_?” Harry asked again, rubbing his hand against his dark robes to get some of Malfoy’s blood off of the knuckles. “Why are you _still_ here?”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy answered, standing gracefully as he kept his steely eyes locked on Harry’s face. The bruising had disappeared, but his nose and mouth looked unnaturally pink and tight, making his already angular face look even sharper. _‘When did I notice that?’_ He lifted pale hands to brush his hair back into place and out of his eyes when the sleeves of his robes fell away, revealing the unmarked skin that had rested underneath.

Harry’s eyes widened as he took that information in, and, before he could stop himself, he gasped. The other boy glared at him, his jaw clenching. “What?” he said darkly.

“N-nothing,” Harry said quickly, his wand slipping in his loosened grip. _‘What the hell am I doing?’_

“HARRY! Where are you?!” Ron’s voice, followed by Hermione’s plea of “I’m sorry, Harry. Please come back,” brought him back from the odd world that had only existed between himself and Malfoy since the door had shut.

“I suppose I should go out there,” Harry said guiltily, to which Malfoy only raised one pale eyebrow and smirked haughtily. “Whatever. Just… stay away from me, Malfoy.”

“It was elucidating to speak to you as well, Potter,” was the other boy’s reply. Harry stomped to the door and wrenched it open. In his haste to get away, he nearly missed the rest of the Slytherin’s comment. “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

TBC


	5. Chapter Four ~ I Don't Think So

Title: The End Shall Come and We Will Dance Forever  
Author: Makoto Sagara  
Series: Harry Potter  
Archive: fanfiction.net, afallenangel.net/makotosagara/, mediaminer.org, Foreverfandom.net, makochanupdates.livejournal.com; anywhere else, please ask  
Category: Angst, Drama  
Pairings: Unknown  
Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP  
  
Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?  
  
A/N: I love how I get ambitious when I start (or restart in the case of this fic) a new story and then the words sort of die… Ugh! However, the opportunity afforded me to actually play around with a character like Draco makes me intrigued to see where this thing will go. I’m only sorry that I took so long to actually write this thing! 

** Chapter Four – I Don’t Think So **

_“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Sunday, September 7th, 1997_

_Dear Father,  
            I have arrived safely at Hogwarts and both the Headmaster and my new Head of House have been gracious and accommodating regarding my late entry due to family concerns. I will begin classes on Monday and have already received, and begun, the assignments that I missed __last week. My new Transfiguration professor is a woman by the name of Professor Tabitha_ _Swanly. Are you aware of her?_  
            Also, I’m sure you and the Dark Lord have heard that Professor Lupin is back as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He seems suspicious of me, and watches my every move throughout mealtime, but since the Headmaster trusts both of us, I am certain that he will only stare at me.  
            I have yet to run into Potter and his group of blood-traitors and Mudbloods. However, the rest of the school’s attitude towards the Slytherin house members is appalling. I have been accosted twice since my arrival and it is only my second day here.  
            How is Mother? Please pass on my love to her. And to my aunt and uncle.  
            I will write when I have more information for you. I realize how important my position is here at the school and will not fail.

_Your dutiful son,  
Draco”_

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco sighed as he watched his eagle owl fly from where the Owlery. Most of what the letter contained was the truth, but the very fact that he hadn’t even been allowed to relax on his first weekend left a bad taste in his mouth. He was alone and confused and surrounded by hostile, small people.

Until the Dark Lord’s – Voldemort, his mind screamed at his squeamish consciousness – return, his entire life had been planned out for him. Go to Hogwarts, get into Slytherin House, get good marks, date the _right_ kind of girl, pass as many N.E.W.T.s as possible, marry said right girl, have an heir, maintain the family’s dignity and honor, and take over when his father died. But now, now, he was supposed to kill Muggles, Mudbloods, and blood traitors. He was supposed to take pleasure in senseless torture. He was supposed to vie for the favor of a lunatic, a half-blood lunatic with an extreme distaste for Muggles. He was supposed to _serve_. Somehow, both options left him feeling extremely discontented.

Even what he was doing now, which was basically offering to spy for both sides, was decidedly unsatisfactory. The only good that this option gave him was the opportunity to watch Potter as he moved through the school.

And Potter… Their earlier confrontation, the latest in a long line of exchange of words, curses, hexes, and physical blows, still stayed with him. Who knew The Boy Who Lived would be so… so… _fierce_ over the memory of his former Head of House? The only other time he’d seen him like that was when Draco, Potter, and the Weasley twins got into that altercation on the Quidditch pitch during 5th year.  This time, however, his reaction to the physical damage wasn’t one of anger, but arousal.

“I must be sick,” Draco muttered, pushing himself from off the Owlery’s wall and heading in the direction of the dungeons. He still had homework to make up, and a potion to make with Slughorn before heading to classes for the first time that year. With a dignified straightening of his shoulders, he made his way down the steps of the tower to the rest of the school, determined to behave as if nothing had changed in the last six months.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Malfoy.” Draco turned as a familiar voice snarled his name, and was rewarded with the freckled face of Ronald Weasley.

“Weasley,” he drawled, shaking his wand from the sleeve of his robes, “to what do I owe the punishment of your presence?”

“Funny, Ferret, I was going to ask you the same thing.” The redhead flushed unattractively, making a sudden movement.

“Don’t even think about it, Weasel,” Draco sneered as he leveled his wand right at the taller boy’s face. “I have no wish to start this with you, but I have no problem taking care of anything you begin.”

“Ronald Weasley,” a female voice shouted, causing the boy to jump and turn his back on the Slytherin. With a shake of his head, Draco took advantage of the other’s lack of concern. Moving silently and quickly, his wand was placed against the other boy’s throat and he could hear the Gryffindor’s breathing hitch.

“You should never turn your back on an enemy, Weasel King.” The redhead swallowed loudly, leaving Draco with the feeling of disgust. “Leave now and I will forget that you were here.”

“Drop dead, Malfoy.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Draco hissed, his lip curling in loathing. “You should really watch what you say to someone who could destroy you without a second thought. Now, I have more important things to handle.” He moved his wand from the redhead’s throat and to the middle of his back. “You will go find out what that shrew calling you wants and don’t turn around, or I will hex you into next week.” He released his captive with a shove and watched as he followed his instructions to the letter.

He was vaguely aware of the Mudblood, Granger, turning around the corner to accost her fellow Gryffindor in a most unattractive manner, and melded into the shadows to avoid dealing with another scene. Unfortunately, he was not that lucky.

“How noble of you, Draco…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had been extremely restless, and felt the need to get away from his Housemates. Since his verbal spat with Hermione and talk with Ginny the day before, he really didn’t want to deal with any of the Gryffindors. But, of course, he managed to find Malfoy in the hallways. He’d been tempted to ignore the blond and hide around a corner; however, Ron’s stupid need for a fight with the Slytherin had Harry watching carefully for any serious damage.

He really didn’t see the point of interfering if all that Malfoy was going to do was threaten his friend. It was, after all, Ron’s fault for accosting the other boy. And hearing Hermione call for the other member of their trio had him breathing easier, especially when Malfoy released the other boy without hexing him as he probably deserved.

He could have left it alone. He _should_ have left it alone. That would have been the wisest thing for him to do, but then again, Harry wasn’t exactly known for doing that sort of thing, now was he?

“How noble of you, Draco,” he said as he stepped from his hiding place. “I was unaware that you were so generous with my friends.”

“How dare you, Potter! I gave you no permission to be so friendly with me,” the blond boy snarled as he stood tall. Harry ignored the indignant tone and actually _looked_ Draco over. He’d gotten taller in the last eleven weeks since they’d parted. His shoulders were broader, and Harry had noticed the way his forearms bunched and curled while he was dealing with Ron. The boy, simply put, was not only gorgeous, but he’d filled out a bit too. Harry swallowed the extra saliva in his mouth before he dribbled it down his chin in desire.

“Well,” Draco drawled, “as _stimulating_ as your conversation is right now, Potter, I can truly say that I have better things to do. Do _not_ follow.”

With a flourish of robes that would have made Snape proud, the Slytherin disappeared. While Harry contemplated the situation, his head exploded into a mass of painful nerves that stole his breath. And before he could cry out, the world grew black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Screams issued from a prone, black-clad figure as a woman with wild, dark hair and eyes, similarly clad in black robes, held her wand over his head. The red sparks from the tip wrapped around the sobbing, pathetic man and she cackled madly, intensifying both the power of the spell and the man’s screams. _“Enough, Bella. Sadly, I need Avery alive for a while longer yet.”_

The woman’s smile slipped before she turned her face to Voldemort with an adoring look. _“Yes, my Lord.”_ She quickly took her place back in the circle as two of her companions dragged the unconscious man to a corner before rejoining the others.

Red, snake-like eyes swept the group before landing on one in particular. _“Lucius, have you heard from your son yet?”_ A tall, graceful body stood from where he was kneeling with others in a circle before Lord Voldemort’s throne, grew closer, and bowed respectfully while avoiding eye contact.

_“Yes, my Lord. My son has just sent his first letter today.”_ A deathly pale, skeletal hand reached out before his face. Instantly a parchment was placed in it. Low muttering could be heard while the letter was read.

_“What is the meaning of this, Lucius?”_ The name was hissed with a cold fury, perfected to terrify. _“Your son is not endearing himself to me as a useful spy. Even Avery has proven he is not half as worthless.”_

_“My Lord, my son is still young and it is well known that Dumbledore does not favor the House of Slytherin,”_ Lucius said carefully as if the words pained him. _“I have tried to court the old fool myself, but he continues his catering to Potter’s every whim.”_ There was an almost audible intake of air from the rest of the assembled servants as the kneeling figure spoke of the other wizard. _“From my other sources at the school, I believe that it may take some time for him to drop his guard.”_

_“See that he does, and that Draco gains his confidence.”_ Hissing ensued and a large, vicious snake slithered up to the kneeling figure and wrapped itself gracefully around the man’s body. _“Or else you and he will feel my wrath.”_

The snake gave an almost crushing squeeze to Lucius’ legs before heading for the corner where the unconscious Avery rested. The blond sighed quietly before trying to blend into the rest of the group and avoid his Lord’s anger. _Draco_ will _provide results, or I will make sure he takes the fall for this whole debacle,_ after _I rid myself of his insipid mother._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco turned as he heard a loud thump behind him. If he was lucky, it was only Peeves, playing one of his tricks. If not… he didn’t want to think about that. There were no other sounds, no shouts or curses, and Draco debated going back to find out what made that sound. Of course, he knew that the last person behind him had been Potter.

And then, the screams began – the kind of screams that curdled his blood. They were even worse than when his worthless father had begun torturing Narcissa in front of him. And what made them unbearable is that they were coming from the thrashing body of Harry Potter, in the middle of the damn corridor.

He looked around, hoping to find _any_ of Potter’s friends and allies, cursing his luck that if he was found out like this, they’d assume he’d done something to the stupid prat.

Finding no one, Draco cast _Petrificus Totalus_ to avoid any flailing limbs, _Silencio_ to cover the screams, and then _Mobilicorpus,_ determined to find somewhere he could either leave his rival to be found or to the Infirmary, whichever came first. He shot one last look around for _anyone_ before his eyes stopped on a spot of crimson that was welling from Potter’s scar. “Well, bugger all…”

TBC…

 

**Author’s Notes 2:** MANY, MANY thanks to Fallen Angel for her assistance with the Voldemort scene. We have discovered that I absolutely detest him and that I would rather fry him than write his words. And as for Luci… well, let’s just say that I’m not going to be nice to him later. And a special thanks to the HP Lexicon (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/) for the help with names of spells and Death Eaters that I can use for fodder.


	6. Chapter Five ~ Frowning Like Hell

Warnings: Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH

Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 

A/N: Ugh, I _hate_ writing Lucius and Voldemort, just so you know. That scene was rewritten three separate times before I didn’t want to scratch out my eyes. MANY thanks go to Fallen Angel for all of her help, or I’d be blind. =P Remember to R &R, yes? Muses are taking to this like nothing else and I’m starting to get worried. >> And many, many thanks for Sevfan's patience in helping me to get this to look like something readable.

 

** Chapter Five – Frowning Like Hell **

 

_“Draco – I need not tell you to rid yourself of this letter as soon as you read it. I only have one piece of advice from here on out. Trust no one but Potter. – S”_

 

Draco blinked as he looked over the letter. He knew whom it was from. Really, there was no other person it _could_ be from. And it didn’t matter that the little messenger that delivered it was a filthy, scraggly grey puff of feathers covering his room in mud and water droplets. Snape was warning him.

 

However, his godfather had disappeared months ago. Why was he sending this all of a sudden? Their relationship had been strained since his father’s arrest and imprisonment at the end of fifth year, and had only gotten worse in sixth year after Lucius returned home to rule with an iron fist and Voldemort, Aunt Bella and Uncle Rudolphus as permanent house guests.

 

And why was he telling him to trust _Potter_ of all people? Why not Dumbledore? Why not… no, wait - he knew why Severus wasn’t telling him to trust Lucius.

 

And as much as the letter disturbed him, the presence of an unconscious Potter in his bed, still in a Full-Body Bind, unsettled him even more.

 

He’d been sleeping there for the last two hours. The blond _knew_ he should have taken the Golden Boy to Madam Pomfrey, but then he would have had to explain what happened, and then it would have gotten back to the Gryffindors. And _that_ was something that the Slytherin was _not_ doing. He’d have better luck just waiting until Potter woke up, explaining to him and then getting him the hell out of his life.

 

All of a sudden, the Gryffindor moaned, a low, primal sound that made Draco uncomfortable. He was severely regretting taking the Silencing Charm off and wondered if he should recast it when another moan slipped from Harry’s pink lips, the sound making Draco tremble with desire. _'Who knew the Gryffindor Golden Boy could sound so deliciously wanton?'_

 

His thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as green eyes flew open and met his own. And then, it felt like all hell broke loose.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

His head felt like someone had stepped on it with cement shoes on. He knew he’d had a vision of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Bellatrix – _that bitch_ – had been torturing Avery for some misdeed. And Lucius had given Voldemort a letter from… Draco. His head gave a massive twinge at that memory and he slowly took a deep breath to calm himself. Unfortunately, he couldn’t move his arms or legs.

 

And the last thing he remembered before the vision was talking to his rival in the hallways. He groaned as he realized that he’d been bound before slitting his eyes open.

 

He had no clue where he was. It certainly wasn’t his room in Gryffindor Tower, the Infirmary or the hall he’d probably passed out in. The walls were the dank, damp, dark stones that could only mean the dungeons. And the bed – _who the hell owns this… oh, shit!_ – was covered in green and silver curtains, with incredibly sensual silk black sheets with matching duvet.

 

With another groan, he opened his eyes completely and found Draco Malfoy sitting in a desk chair, staring at him intently. He was in Malfoy’s _room_ , in his _bed_ , and while part of him was starting to wonder what was going to happen – the really sick part, he thought – the rest of him was trying to break out of the bonds and find out what the fuck was going on. “Where the hell am I, Malfoy?”

 

“Well, after our extremely intelligent conversation earlier, Potter, you passed out in the hallway. I would have left you there, but then you began screaming and thrashing about,” the blond drawled, his voice not quite up to par to instill disgust and anger. “I was tempted to go about my way. However, I knew your little friends would think I’d done something to you, since Weasel decided to accost me in that hallway. I couldn’t take the chance.”

 

“That doesn’t explain where the hell I am, Malfoy,” Harry said through clenched teeth, struggling against the bonds. “And why the hell I’m trussed up like a Christmas goose.”

 

“Again, Potter, you were thrashing about.” Grey eyes closed and Harry watched as the other boy’s chest heaved a few times in deep breathing. “I should have just left you there, but you were bleeding from your bloody scar.”

 

“Release me, you prat.” He was surprised at the level tone he was keeping. _'Malfoy’s not like Voldemort. I can keep my cool. I can keep my cool. I can deal with this rationally._ ' He watched the other boy open his eyes again and felt his heart begin pounding. _'Maybe… I think.'_ “Please.”

 

Draco slashed his wand with a quick _Finite Incantatum_ and suddenly Harry had all the feeling back in his body. Unfortunately, most of his nerves felt as if there were hot pokers digging in for the long haul. Carefully, he sat up and put a hand to his hot forehead, noticing the suspicious lack of blood around his distinctive lightning bolt scar. “I thought you said I’d been bleeding.”

 

“Obviously, I cleaned it up.” The blond’s tone was haughty and demeaning. “I didn’t want you to stain my bedding. Blood really is difficult to get out and I don’t want to make any more work for the house-elves than is necessary.”

 

“Where am I?” Harry asked for the third time, ignoring how his cheeks were flushing as the other boy continued to coolly stare at him. “What have you done to me, Malfoy?”

 

“You are in my rooms in the Slytherin dungeons. It was closer than anywhere else. And since I have no roommates, it was the safest place to take you.” The blond was obviously trying to portray himself as bored, but there was an edginess that made Harry ill-at-ease. “Besides binding and silencing you to avoid being thrashed or caught before we arrived, I’ve done nothing.”

 

“And?”

 

“There is no ‘and’, Potter. Now, if you’re feeling well, please go away.”

 

Harry narrowed his eyes and carefully readjusted his glasses so that they were no longer falling off of his nose. “Aren’t you curious as to what happened?” he asked.

 

“I have no desire to keep you here longer than you already have been. If you don’t mind,” Draco said icily, “and even if you do, I have homework to catch up on. Leave.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, standing and fixing his clothes as well. He kept his eyes on the other boy, however, knowing full well that in his vision, Malfoy had sent his father a letter that hadn’t gone over too well with Voldemort. For some reason, he felt in his gut that not all was what it seemed, but he wasn’t sure what was really true either. So, instead of taking the piss out of Malfoy for being helpful, he left.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Harry took a deep breath as he wandered down the hallways from the dungeons back towards Gryffindor Tower. They were unusually quiet, but then he remembered that it was a Hogsmeade weekend and that most of the students were probably down in the town, enjoying the beautiful autumn afternoon sun. Slowly, he remembered that he’d declined going down to the village with the others because of the overwhelming press he felt to be alone.

 

Things with Ron and Hermione weren’t well, not in the least. Ron and he had never really recovered from the tournament debacle from fourth year. The redhead may have been the one thing Harry would miss the most during the second task – at the time – but things were different two and a half years later. And Hermione… well… She’d become a shrew. Every time the girl opened her mouth, it was “Dumbledore this”, “McGonagall that”, or (Harry’s personal favorite) “shouldn’t you think this through? You don’t want to be rash.” Her face would pinch up most unattractively and her hands would rest on her hips. Again, self-control was the reason that he still had friends.

 

When he and Ginny had dated (albeit briefly) the year before, Ron had gotten stiff and rather nasty. How Harry wished to tell his best friend that he hadn’t done anything to “sweet, innocent Ginny”. Damn it all, she was the one who showed him how to kiss properly and how to get each other off without making a scene, both in the very public common room and a few abandoned classrooms and hallways. In fact, the first person to touch his body sexually was his baby sister. And she’d started it!

 

Harry growled in frustration as he remembered the way her hands used to caress, stroke and pet his body, the way she would get a wicked gleam in her eyes before she dropped to her knees and pushed his robes aside to give him a blowjob. Not that that was any information he was going to be sharing with Ron, or anyone else for that matter.

 

And then, out of the blue, Ginny had approached him last year in May, a look on her face that he knew was trouble. The first thing out of her mouth had been that she’d enjoyed their time together, but she just didn’t feel that way about him anymore. Calmly, while he stood as still as death, she explained that she and Luna were much more compatible and that she was sorry for any pain he’d feel, but she couldn’t stay with him. And somehow, it hadn’t hurt as much as he thought it should have.

 

That night was the first night that he’d had a dream about a blond in nearly two years. It was the night after that where he discovered that the blond had deliciously pouty lips. And slowly, months came and passed, until two weeks before returning to school, the sexy, talented, witty blond in his dreams morphed into Draco Malfoy.

 

And what scared him the most was that he didn’t _mind_ that he was having wet dreams about his school rival. Oh, no, it was worse than that. For the last three weeks, he’d been looking forward to going to bed. He would slowly undress until he was in nothing but his boxers, climb into bed, close the curtains (at least once he was back at the dorms), cast a Silencing Charm, and wait for sleep to claim him. And he always dreamed nowadays. Every night, without exception, Draco showed him immense pleasure while he slept. And he _loved_ it. Very much so.

 

Waking up in the other boy’s bed was just a step up in his nightly visions, of that he was perfectly sure. He’d go to sleep and dream of those black silk sheets and that sexy aloof look the other boy had worn and he’d orgasm harder than he’d every managed. He just knew it. And he couldn’t wait.

 

Harry knew that his thoughts were becoming very circular, but he didn’t care. What had it meant that the boy who supposedly hated him hadn’t abandoned him in the hallway, screaming and twitching in pain, but instead had cared for him gently and watched over him until he woke up? Did he-? No, he knew he couldn’t afford to get his hopes up.

 

Besides, he had to report his vision to Dumbledore. He had to know something about Malfoy. If nothing else, the Headmaster deserved to know that while Snape had turned tail and run after the horrible confrontation at the end of sixth year that led to Professor McGonagall’s death, Malfoy was indeed ready to run back to Daddy, and Voldemort in the process, and tell everything.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Something’s wrong with Harry this year, Ron,” Hermione said, pushing strands of her bushy hair behind her ear, even though the brisk wind was making it a futile effort. Her boyfriend walked beside her, his blue eyes hard since his run-in with Malfoy earlier that morning.

 

“’Mione, he’s been off since Cedric,” Ron stated casually.

 

“Well, yes, I suppose you are correct,” she answered slowly, her brain trying to process the memories of the last two years. “However, I think it’s gotten worse since Sirius and Professor McGonagall’s deaths. He’s pulled almost completely away. And what happened between him and Ginny?”

 

“I dunno. She won’t talk about it. Says it’s not my business and to stay away,” he growled, red spots making his freckles almost nonexistent. “Actually, she’s gotten pretty high handed since the whole Department of Mysteries mess.”

 

“What do you mean?” She sighed happily as Ron slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his body.

 

“Well, she’s… She won’t really talk about anything personal anymore. It’s worse since she and Harry broke up, and she won’t say what’s wrong.”

 

“Do you think she’s protecting him from you and your brothers then?” She felt him tense up and regretted her word choice. “I only meant that maybe she doesn’t want you to blame him. They still seem like good friends, if nothing else.”

 

“I guess, and it’s a good thing in a friend, but it makes my job as her brother harder. I want to know if I have to rough him up a bit for making her cry.”

 

Hermione giggled as she pulled away and looked up at Ron before they entered the Three Broomsticks. “I doubt that she left any roughing up that needed to be done to you. She’s perfectly capable of doing that herself.”

 

“I _know_ that, ‘Mione, but she’s my little sister. I have to defend her honor.”

 

“Whose?”

 

Hermione turned and saw the subject of their conversation sitting at a table with Luna, Padma Patil and Neville Longbottom. Suddenly, the older girl felt guilty for talking about Ginny behind her back. “Um, he’s talking about his job as your brother, Gin.”

 

“Bah,” Ginny said, waving her hand dismissively before taking a drink from her mug of Butterbeer. “I can handle that on my own, brother dear.” The others laughed as Ron flushed momentarily. “Oh, sit down and have a Butterbeer, Ronniekins.” She looked around, her red hair whipping around as she did so. “Where’s Harry? Didn’t he come with you two?”

 

Hermione sighed heavily. “Harry told us that he wasn’t up to ‘a trip out of the castle’ today.”

 

“Hm, poor Harry seems to be affected by a Hugglesnort,” Luna said dreamily, leaning her head against Ginny’s shoulder as she smiled at the group.

 

“What’s a Hugglesnort?” Neville asked as his warm brown eyes scrunched up in concern.

 

“Oh, well, they are very small creatures that affect those who have suffered losses at an early age,” Luna answered succinctly. Ginny looked at the blonde with obvious affection and Padma looked absolutely riveted as they began to discuss magical creatures, both real and not.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but look on in avid fascination as the Ravenclaws began to extol the many v0irtues of the creatures around them, but Ron tuned out the entire conversation, his mind back at the castle with his best friend. It was true that Harry had become more withdrawn since Sirius’ death, and nothing Hermione or he could say could induce the smaller boy to actually confide in them anymore. Of course, they’d been reluctant to listen to him regarding his visions in fifth year or the fact that Voldemort was up to something in their sixth year. And considering that McGonagall’s death was the end result of their lack of faith in him, he wasn’t really surprised that Harry was trying to distance himself from both of them. It just hurt.

 

However, Ron was determined to try and rectify the situation. But, how was still eluding him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry stood in front of the stone gargoyle that protected Dumbledore’s office and glared at it. He didn’t know the password yet. “Jelly pops.” The statue remained. “Ice Mice… Sugar Quills… Chocolate Frogs… Blood Pops…” The gargoyle leaped to the side and Harry grimaced. Those were perhaps his least favorite candies in the Wizarding world and he couldn’t figure out who would like them, aside from vampire and werewolves, maybe.

 

Putting aside his distaste, Harry climbed the stairs to the Headmaster’s rooms, unwilling to wait for the revolutions to take him to the top. He was surprised to see the door open, but the familiar sight of Fawkes reassured him that some good things still existed.

 

“Ah, my boy, what can I do for you?” Dumbledore said as he looked up from several parchments that littered his desk.

 

“Professor, sir, I’ve had a vision,” Harry replied reluctantly as he entered the office and took a seat in front of the Headmaster.

 

“Ah, well, that is to be expected, I suppose,” the older man said sadly. “How about some tea before we get too far into conversation then?”

 

Quietly, Harry accepted a dainty china cup and tried to process how he was going to let Dumbledore know exactly what he saw. “Avery failed to recruit Mrs. Zabini, and Voldemort let Bellatrix,” _bitch_ , his mind added, “punish him, but that’s not the worst thing, sir.”

 

“Hm,” Dumbledore answered, his lips pursed in thought, “continue, please, Harry.”

 

“Lucius Malfoy showed a letter that Draco wrote to his master,” Harry said with a sneer.

 

“Oh, did he now?” The old man’s eyes were twinkling for some reason, and that set Harry’s nerves on edge.

 

“Yeah, he’s got that prat Malfoy spying here in the school and he wants him to get close to you and report everything possible back to Voldemort.”

 

“And did they happen to mention anything about Severus?”

 

“No, there was no mention of _Professor_ Snape, sir. Only the letter, Malfoy’s position here, and Avery’s punishment were mentioned.”

 

“Hm…” The Headmaster steepled his hands in front of his mouth as he thought for a few minutes. Harry couldn’t keep his hands still in his agitation and ended up sitting on them. Malfoy was _up to something_ , and he wanted to know, but the way that Dumbledore was acting made him think he wasn’t going to like what happened next. “What I’m about to tell you, Harry, cannot leave this room. I trust that you can keep your word, my boy?”

 

“Of course, Professor,” Harry said quickly.

 

“Mr. Malfoy was in fact sent back to Hogwarts to spy on the happenings here, but mostly with the students, I believe. He approached me himself his first evening back.”

 

Harry sat still for the first time since entering the office, his mouth opening and shutting in a futile attempt to figure out what the hell he was going to say. “Wha- How- I mean- Huh?”

 

“I believe Mr. Malfoy’s attitude to be greatly different now that his father is freed from Azkaban than he has previously shown us here around the school.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes were twinkling as they took in Harry’s shell-shocked expression. “I trust that you will do everything in your power to help ease his way with the rest of the student body, Harry.”

 

“I- I- I bloody will _not_!”

 

TBC…


	7. Chapter Six ~ In Disgrace of Me

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH  
 **Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 

**A/N:** Since rereading most of the Harry Potter series, I have decided that I will be addressing some of the issues I have with it in this fic. Mainly, the whole Harry/Ron/Hermione relationship bothers me to no small degree. So, don’t expect an easy reconciliation between the Golden Trio.

Many thanks to my new beta, Laylee!

 

** Chapter Six - In Disgrace of Me **

****

Draco woke up the second Monday of the new school year and sighed. He could _smell_ where Potter had lain in his bedding, an earthy, spicy smell that did dangerous things to his body, intensifying his already aching morning erection.  He snatched up his wand and quickly cast _Tempus_ , finding he only had forty-five minutes before his first lesson of the day, and still needed to eat something for breakfast. Ignoring the painful throbbing in his nether regions, he bolted into the shower to begin his day.

 

Twenty minutes later, clean and newly dressed, Draco swept into the Great Hall, casting darting glances around the room. The fact that there had been so few students for the last two days had left him on edge, and the abysmal show at breakfast really drove it all home. The morning meal on Mondays was always very scantily attended but, this late in the meal, the tables should have been at least three-fourths full. The only table that was even half full was Gryffindor, and that one was missing many of the seventh years, excluding the infamous Golden Trio.

 

The Slytherin was further upset when he looked up at the Head Table and found it lacking his godfather’s dark presence. He could just imagine the look of disgust and displeasure on Severus’ face at the sad showing of students this year. Draco was well aware of the fact that his godfather both loved and hated teaching at Hogwarts, especially since his art was so misused by the pupils he instructed. And the very fact that Slytherin House was so poorly represented amongst the students who _were_ present made everything worse.

 

However, he could feel familiar, heavy eyes on him. Turning towards the Gryffindor table, Draco could see the Golden Trio as they got up to leave for the first lesson of the week, Transfiguration. And the eyes, of course they were Potter’s. Who else would bother staring at him as if he was an interesting ingredient for a potion?

 

Snorting at his delirious thinking, Draco turned his eyes to his plate, quickly but gracefully eating his toast and drinking his tea. And yet, he could still feel those serious, bright green eyes pinning him where he sat. What did Potter want? Wasn’t it enough that he had completely ruined his first weekend back? Did he have to make the first week back awkward as well? And what the hell was that the day before?

 

The shifting of many feet on the stone floor caught the blond’s attention, and he noticed that the rest of the student body was heading out of the Great Hall, for classes presumably. Standing, he made his way to join the rest of them.

 

Time to find out if that Swanly woman was any good at Transfiguration; McGonagall may have been stern, but she was a genius in her area, and it was a shame that she was gone. At least, that was all that Draco was going to admit to feeling.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Things had been difficult for Harry since the night before. His meeting with Dumbledore had left him angry and confused. From what the headmaster had said, he was supposed to befriend Malfoy. While his initial reaction had been anger and to refuse the request, it just wouldn’t leave his head while he was supposed to be sleeping in Gryffindor Tower.

 

Ron and Hermione had been waiting for him, sharing worried glances as he sat down and stared into the fire near their seating arrangement.

 

“So, mate, how was your day?” Ron asked carefully, staring at him very obviously from the corner of his eyes.

 

“It was fine, I guess,” Harry said, bringing his hands up to rub at his temples. Maybe he could keep his headache away if he did it.

 

“We ran into Ginny, Luna and Neville at the Three Broomsticks while we were in town,” Hermione said. “We had a very nice time.”

 

“Yeah, Harry, you should have come with us.”

 

“I needed the time alone,” Harry replied, looking up to look at his ‘friends’ carefully. “I just wanted to get my thoughts together.”

 

“Harry, we’re worried about you,” Hermione whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’ve closed yourself off since… Snuffles…”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Hermione,” Harry growled, running a hand through his already-messy black locks. “I’m going to bed.” He jumped up from the couch and made his way to the dorms, despite the yells from the other two.

 

When he was in the dorm room, he shut himself up in his bed, curtains closed tightly. He just didn’t know how to feel anymore. One minute he was taunting Malfoy, the next he was in pain. Then he was waking up in _his_ bed and wondering what else he could be doing besides just watching the tall, lean blond sit across from him.

 

To say he slept poorly that night would be pointless. His dreams were, of course, about Malfoy. And he’d woken up with the biggest hard-on that he could remember. A cold shower did nothing to improve his mood, and so, when he made his way down to the common room and was ambushed by Ron and Hermione, he wisely kept his mouth shut before he said anything that would hurt the others’ feelings.

 

He continued to only speak when he couldn’t get out of it as they walked through the castle to the Great Hall, and when they reached the table, he immediately began to stuff his face. Sadly, Hermione was extremely determined to nag him that morning.

 

“Harry, how are you this morning?” she asked, sounding suspiciously chipper.

 

“Alive, just barely,” he mumbled as he reached for a glass of pumpkin juice to wash down the toast he’d been attacking.

 

“Did you have any interesting dreams?” she continued.

 

“Why? Are you going to interpret them? I thought you didn’t believe in Divination, ‘Mione?” He was trying for a teasing tone, but he sounded bitter even to himself. And the looks Neville, Ron, and Ginny were giving him backed that up, as did the pained expression Hermione wore. “Sorry, slept poorly. I’m not really awake yet.”

 

“No problem.” The entire group was quiet for long moments and only the sound of students chatting at the other tables could be heard. Harry was able to finish a cup of tea before the conversation picked up again.

 

“I can’t believe that Dumbledore let him come back after what happened,” Ron snarled. Looking up, Harry saw Malfoy walking over to the nearly deserted Slytherin table, looking as perfect and cold as ever. “You’d think that having a Death Eater in the same school as Harry would be something he’d be against.”

 

“You don’t have proof that he took the Dark Mark, Ron,” Neville said quietly, his brown eyes burning with an intensity that was rarely seen.

 

“Funny that you should be defending him, Nev,” Ron replied.

 

“I’m not. All I meant is that you shouldn’t jump to the conclusion that he’s a Death Eater because of his parents.”

 

“What about the other Slytherins? None of the rest of those cowards had the guts to show up this year.” The redhead sneered unattractively before running a hand absently through the fiery locks. “You Know Who certainly isn’t going to stay quiet for long. Besides, Malfoy’s just begging for trouble, strolling around the castle like he owns the place. I’d like to rearrange his face so that he can’t smirk anymore.”

 

“Just shut up,” Harry said coldly. “It’s too bloody early to hear this shit.” He never took his eyes from the Slytherin table, not really caring about his housemates’ reactions. He was tired and not in the mood to deal with Ron’s inane ranting over the evils of everyone who wasn’t a Gryffindor. It didn’t matter that his own pet rat turned out to be one of the most infamous Gryffindor traitors. No, everyone else was susceptible to being a Death Eater – especially any Slytherin student.

 

Although a small part of his conscience told him he was being a hypocrite, since he’d felt the same way until last year.  It was only after much self-reflection following Sirius’ death and observation of his rival that he realized that they were both playing parts assigned to them by the adults in their lives. He was the “Savior” and Malfoy was the “Death-Eater-in-Training”. However, they were more than that. The blond especially, since he was constantly ditching his brutish compatriots and doing things like early morning laps around the lake or helping younger years in the library on the weekends. In fact, when it came down to things, Draco Malfoy might actually be a better person than Harry himself was – not that he’d ever admit it in a million years.

 

Finally, the silence, odd looks and general annoyance at everyone and everything took its toll and Harry stood up from the table, Ron and Hermione following automatically – whether he wanted them to or not. Without another word, he headed up to his first lesson, wondering how the rest of the school year was going to play out if he was already preparing himself to fight with his friends.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I’m telling you, Lav,” Parvati Patil whispered to her best friend as Professor Swanly walked around the class’ practical portion of changing large furniture objects into small turtles and back. “He was staring right at our table the entire time he was there.”

 

“But, ‘Vati, it’s weird,” Lavender Brown responded quietly, sliding her eyes to stare at the lone boy at the front of the class. “He just sticks out too much by himself. Where are the others? I mean, it’s not as if he’s going to cause trouble alone. He’s not stupid.”

 

“Far from it,” Parvati’s twin, Padma, added, looking in the direction of the blond in question. “He’s only behind Granger in most subjects. The real issue here is that Malfoy’s reputation is less than savory and it _is_ suspicious for the rest of his year mates to not show up while he does. I was under the impression that the Malfoys set the rules in that particular set.”

 

“Well, remember at the end of fifth year?” Li Su, another seventh year Ravenclaw student, asked. “I heard that Lucius Malfoy was arrested at the Ministry for some reason. Maybe You-Know-Who tossed him out?”

 

“That’s stupid,” Hermione snapped, her patience for the other girls’ gossiping finally wearing away to nothing after listening to them for the last twenty minutes. “Being a Death Eater would hardly be something that one can get ‘fired’ from and still live. The Dark Lord is hardly known for his patience and well-behaved demeanor, is he?”

 

“Well, what do you think?” Parvati shot back as she flipped her long black hair behind her ears.

 

“Hm, well, truthfully, I don’t know,” Hermione said, trying to tame her frizzy hair as she thought on her feet. “I agree that it’s suspicious that he’s the only Slytherin who came back, but until he does something, we can only speculate.”

 

Lavender rolled her eyes, causing the other girls to snicker. “So, what you’re saying, Granger, is that you don’t know any more than we do, right?”

 

“Yes, and until I have more facts, it’s pointless to _guess_ at his behaviour. The only thing that’s certain is that he will find some way to insult all of us if we’re forced to interact with him, because that’s what he’s done since the first day.”

 

“True,” Padma said, shaking her head at Parvati’s turtle, which still had wood grain patterns on its shell. “It’s not as if we won’t have ample opportunities to observe him this year.”

 

“Well, at least he’s easy on the eyes,” Parvati sing-songed. “What a shame it would be if he weren’t.” Li and Lavender giggled while Padma and Hermione shook their heads.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I want to know what he’s up to,” Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff, whispered to Ron as the seventh year boys made their way to Charms with Professor Flitwick after Transfiguration.

 

“Bloody hell, what is going on with everyone talking about Malfoy?” Seamus Finnigan yelled. “It’s bad enough that it’s at the breakfast table, and that is all the girls can seem to talk about. But, now, et tu, Ernie?” The other boys snickered as Seamus punctuated his statement when a melodramatic grab to his side.

 

“But you have to admit, Seamus, it _is_ interesting news,” Terry Boot, the only male Ravenclaw seventh year to return, said.

 

“I suppose it is,” Dean Thomas said, smiling briefly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he came back on Friday night, and here we are, Monday morning, and we’re still taking about him.”

 

“True, true,” Justin Finch-Fletchley added. “New topic of conversation, please?”

 

“Did anyone hear the new Wicked Sisters’ song on the wireless? It’s brilliant,” Ernie said.

 

“Yeah, my sister convinced my mum to get us a wireless so that we could bring it to school this year,” Ron said. “We’ve been listening to it every night in the common room.”

 

“Seriously?” “Can we come tonight?” “What do you listen to?” The conversation continued along those lines, and no one noticed the silent, brooding figure of Harry walking behind them, accompanied by only Neville.

 

TBC


	8. Chapter Seven ~ I Don't Care

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

  **A/N** : Hm, so, I had to sit down and plot out what I really wanted to happen in this fic. (Good idea, truthfully, but it’s time-consuming and ever changing.) I’ve decided that since I am not touching HPB or DH, I didn’t want to deal with Horcruxes either. I’ve got my own theory and it’ll be making an appearance later.

** Chapter Seven – I Don’t Care **

The rest of the month of September passed by quietly, leaving Harry with plenty of time to actually do his homework and concentrate on trying to process what he was learning for the N.E.W.T.s later that year. The only person he willingly spoke to in his year was Neville, the other boy being a nice contrast to the constant gossiping and joking around the other boys were constantly doing. With no Quidditch this year, he figured that he’d have a decent chance of actually getting at least an EE in every subject, if he was very smart with his time.

The most frequent topic of conversation was, of course, Draco Malfoy and the missing Slytherins. It was as if they weren’t in the middle of a war with the century’s most insane, evil wizard. No, what the Slytherins were doing was much more interesting.  If Harry heard Malfoy’s name one more time from any of the other boys, he’d start hexing them all. Neville, when he asked him, was of the same opinion, as were Hermione and Ginny.

However, since the mention of access to WWN in the Gryffindor common room, the appearance of random Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students was becoming frequent. In light of that fact, Harry and Neville began spending their free time in the library, Hagrid’s hut, or the greenhouses helping Professor Sprout. Many times, while they were in the library, a shock of white blond hair could be seen in one of the corners, buried behind various books and papers, as if Malfoy was trying to hide himself away from the other students.

As time passed, Harry began to feel sorry for the other boy. He was pale, and a few times he’d sported black eyes. After the second incident, Professor Slughorn started asking the portraits what happened, and three fifth year Gryffindors were assigned two months detention with Filtch. It was obvious that something was bothering the Slytherin boy. Every time Harry saw him, Dumbledore’s words came back to haunt him. However, he still didn’t want to go out on a limb and end up paying for it with his life, or worse.

The last day of September found Harry and Neville at what was fast becoming their regular table, books forgotten as they talked about an article Neville’d read in some Herbology journal. The rest of the student body was probably in their respective common rooms, since there was still two hours until dinner. Madam Pince was dusting bookshelves on the other side of the room, occasionally throwing them dirty looks, and Malfoy’s corner was empty. All in all, life was pretty quiet and good for Harry at that point.

But, all good things must come to an end.

While the Gryffindors were engrossed in their conversation, the heavy wooden doors of the library burst open, revealing a very bruised and battered Draco Malfoy. His natural grace was marred by a very pronounced limp, and blood was dripping from above his left eye and the right corner of his mouth.

Madam Pince let out a very loud gasp of shock and Neville stopped speaking in mid-word. That was what caused Harry to turn around. And his stomach turned.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d jumped up from his seat and ran over to the injured Slytherin, hands pausing before they actually touched him. “What happened, Malfoy?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco looked up into worried green eyes and felt like crying. How long had he been waiting to see Harry direct something other than disgust and anger at him? ‘ _Too long’,_ he thought morosely, frowning. Instantly, he regretted that action, as it caused both his rapidly swelling eye and lips to hurt even more, and added to his general unhappiness.

“Why do you care, Potter?” he asked quietly, leaning against the door frame and trying to drag air into his lungs. He knew the pain in his right side was an indication of possible fractured rib. “I would assume you’d revel to see me brought down so low.”

“Don’t be stupid, Malfoy. I don’t enjoy seeing other people in pain, not even you,” the Gryffindor replied, turning his mouth up in a sneer.

“That’s a relief,” Draco whispered. Half of him hoped that the other boy could hear that statement, but the look on Potter’s face showed he hadn’t.

“So, what happened?” Harry asked again, putting a hand on his left shoulder to keep him standing.

“Hufflepuff sixth years, down by the lake… Took a walk and on the way back, they jumped me.” He snorted uncharacteristically and regretted it when his head began pounding. ‘ _No, not my head, it’s Longbottom’s footsteps on the floor. The last two people in the school I wanted to see and they are both here, together, at the worst possible moment.’_

“Harry,” the other boy said quietly, “maybe we should take him to see Madam Pomfrey? I don’t like the way he’s leaning.”

The black-haired boy shook his head as if to clear it. “You’re right, Nev.” Then, those intense green eyes were back on him, making his injuries seem less significant by the way his blood began heating up under that intense gaze. “Malfoy, can you walk on your own?”

Draco shook his head and tried to process what the Gryffindors were talking about. “No, no Pomfrey,” he snarled, attempting to move away from the do-gooders.

“Don’t be stupid, Malfoy,” Longbottom shot back heatedly. The reaction was definitely not something that Draco was used to and he had to look up and make sure he was hearing correctly. “It’s obvious that you’re seriously injured, and it’s nothing that Harry or I can mend. You have to go to Madam Pomfrey, or it could get worse.”

The blond flushed at the passion and compassion lacing the voice of the only other person he’d been crueler to than Harry. He understood that he didn’t really deserve their worry, but there was no law that said he couldn’t take advantage of it. If only they didn’t want to drag him through half the castle, injured and weak. “As if either of you would lose sleep if something was wrong with me,” he whispered.

“Neville, do you know what this prat’s problem is?” Potter asked contemptuously. “He’s worried that someone would see us helping _him_ through the castle and it would _ruin_ his _reputation._ ”

“That’s just dumb,” Longbottom responded as he rested one of his chubby hands on Draco’s left shoulder. “Your reputation is already shot, Malfoy. It can only improve by being seen with Harry.” The Gryffindors chuckled and Draco was forced to acknowledge the truth of that statement with a wry smile.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get Malfoy to the infirmary…” Harry’s voice dropped off and Draco looked into his rival’s eyes, wondering what the other boy was thinking. “We could always use a Disillusionment Charm, Malfoy, to avoid anyone noticing you.”

“Yes,” Draco said, breathing shallowly as his ribs ached. He closed his eyes as Harry’s holly wand appeared and waved in front of his face. He was shocked by the warm feeling of Harry’s magic – it seemed to warm him… _everywhere_ , and he was suddenly very grateful for the fact that no one would be able to see his face for a while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry watched calmly as Madam Pomfrey tended to Malfoy’s wounds, asking very few questions, but her face pinched up as if she was just waiting to speak her piece about the situation. Truthfully, most of the teachers now wore faces oddly similar to the one the mediwitch had on her face when it came to Malfoy and his treatment by the other students. It was as if they couldn’t decide if he deserved what they were doing to him or not. And as more people were attacked and died, the beatings became more frequent and vicious.

It didn’t please Harry one iota. At _all._

When all of the blond’s wounds had been treated, Madam Pomfrey handed him a very familiar-looking potion vial. Silver eyes narrowed at her while he sniffed the liquid pointedly. Harry could see the muscles of the sharp angled jaw clench. Instinctively, he understood that the Slytherin didn’t want to be rendered unconscious while he and Neville were there and decided to spare him the humiliation – unlike what had been offered to him earlier that month by the same person – although, in retrospect, Malfoy’s thinking had spared them both a very sticky situation that neither could have adequately answered.

Harry grabbed onto Neville’s sleeve, gently pulling his friend out of the infirmary and into the hall. He didn’t move beyond that. He knew that the mediwitch would be out there to ask them the questions that she knew her patient wouldn’t answer. And sure enough, three minutes later, the plump witch was looking at the teenaged boys, eyes shining with barely contained rage.

“What happened?” she asked tightly.

“He said that he was… attacked down by the lake,” Neville answered, running a nervous hand through his shaggy brown hair.

“He didn’t say who did it, and we had to threaten him to come here for treatment,” Harry added. His tone conveyed his annoyance, which earned him odd looks from his friend and the nurse.

“Thank you,” the witch said, sounding strangely thoughtful. “I suggest you two go back to your House, since being here right now would be rather suspicious.” She smiled as Harry’s eyes narrowed at her. “Don’t worry, Mr. Potter. I will make sure that Mr. Malfoy makes it back to his rooms without incident, when I feel he is ready to be released.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get much else out of the woman, Harry turned on his heel, one thought running through his mind: it was time for another talk with Dumbledore.

TBC


	9. Chapter Eight ~ Who Are You Kidding, Mister?

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

** Chapter Eight – Who Are You Kidding, Mister? **

Dumbledore smiled when he felt Harry’s familiar magic signature come tromping up the staircase to his office. While he hadn’t invited the young man up for a talk, he knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to visit. Although, the boy’s magic was burning, which indicated he was furious. For the first time in a long while, Albus didn’t know what was wrong exactly, and he was forced to allow the boy in and to calm down before they proceeded.

“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but what were you thinking when you allowed Malfoy to return?” Harry’s green eyes, so like Lily’s, blazed with his fury, and suddenly, this interview made sense.

“Harry, while I must say that Lucius Malfoy may be repulsive, Draco Malfoy is _not_ his father,” he said calmly. “However, I will admit that I did not foresee your fellow students turning on him as they have.”

“What did you expect? The git is running around with _no_ protection, and he just so happens to be the son of one of the most notorious Death Eaters.” Magic crackled and one of his silver instruments that Albus used to test the purity of an object’s power shattered on its table. “He might as well walk around with a sign around his neck, exclaiming how easy it is to take him down.”

“Your level of interest in this matter is surprising, Harry.” The older wizard took a moment to really _look_ at the teen – the blue-black hair that was standing up in places, the green eyes that seemed to shine behind those atrocious glasses, the lightning bolt scar that contrasted so vastly with his golden-tinted skin, the mouth pressed into a thin line, and the square jaw clenched tightly. Everything about him screamed righteous anger. “If I recall correctly, the last time we spoke, you refused to have anything to do with Mr. Malfoy.”

“That was before I knew that he’d become the target for everyone’s anger around here! I know what that’s like! I never wanted that to happen to anyone, not even Dra- Malfoy!”

Albus found himself having to suppress a smile at Harry’s slip of the tongue. It seemed that Severus, wherever he was, had been correct. His two favorite students had more in common than they thought. Now, if only they’d come to terms with things… “That does change things greatly.” He tapped a long forefinger against his lips in thought. “Do you have any suggestions on how to rectify this situation?”

“I-I, uh, er, no?”

“As of now, I would hope that you will take my previous suggestion to heart, Harry. Mr. Malfoy can be pleasant where he wants to please, as I’m sure many people of his acquaintance could tell you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is, and the Sahara is rather hot sometimes as well,” Harry said drily. The older man just smiled and waited for the boy to continue. “Headmaster, I’ll try to help him, I suppose, but I just don’t trust him.”

“I understand that the two of you have a very complicated past, my boy, but I hope that you will put that aside and try to work together.” _For the greater good,_ he thought to himself. He and his protégé spoke for an hour longer about the subject, but not once in that whole discussion did Dumbledore ever explain to the young man that Draco was actually a double agent for him, much like Snape had been before him. That was not his secret to tell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“My dear boy,_

_I believe that you may have to explain yourself to Mr. Potter to get his assistance._

_-AD”_

Draco stared at the letter and read over the words for a fourth time as he lay on his cot in the Infirmary. It had been a few hours since he’d woken up and the Headmaster’s phoenix delivered the damnable letter the moment he regained consciousness. Part of him remembered the trip with Potter and Longbottom from the library, but most of him was desperately trying to forget the whole ordeal. He would have to explain to his father what happened. And really, he was tired of what amounted to tattling to the Dark Lord for every incident.

Not that he liked being beaten up, far from it, but he understood the other students’ frustrations with known Death Eaters as more and more attacks occurred. While he wasn’t a follower of that madman, his father was. And everyone knew it.

Besides, what the hell was _Potter_ of all people going to do to help him? _Date_ him? _‘I’d become the Dark Lord’s personal sexual slave before Potter would take a look at me like that,’_ Draco thought miserably.

Giving it all up as a bad job, the blond struggled to lie back down and drew the covers up to his chin when he was successful, wincing as all the moving pulled tight and sore muscles. Hopefully, Pomfrey would just assume he was asleep and leave him alone.

However, he saw the truth in the Headmaster’s words. Perhaps it was time to come clean to someone other than the old man. _‘I could do worse than Potter, I suppose.’_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucius frowned at the latest letter from his son. It was the same, and, yet, it was not. Draco said that he was making progress in speaking with Dumbledore, but he was nowhere close to getting information about the old coot’s actions or anything of interest about Potter. The Dark Lord would be angry. And Lucius would be the one to suffer.

Until he could get his long fingers wrapped around his useless heir’s throat, the Malfoy patriarch had someone else to take his frustrations out on. His beautiful, proud, pathetic wife took everything that Lucius gave her and still came to his bed. In fact, in the twenty-two years of their marriage, Narcissa had never refused to fulfill her wifely duties. And then some…

A sound made his head snap up, wand at the ready to take out whoever was so stupid to disrupt him. He nearly sighed in relief when he saw his sister-in-law in the doorway of his study. “Bella, to what do I owe this intrusion?”

“Lucius, have you heard from my favorite nephew as of yet?” The woman, who normally was so hysterical with her insanity, looked positively glowing. However, it was a perfectly ordinary glow, almost as if… Well, if she was, then good. If not, he would write it off as her mind healing from all the vitriol her mother fed her while growing up. (It was that treatment that broke the poor woman, and thus made her ineligible to become Lucius’ wife. Pity, really, as Bella and he were much more suited to one another. However, Rodolphus and she were a good match as well.)

“Yes, and no,” he said, frowning at the parchment again. “He has nothing to report about Potter, sadly, except that the boy is slowly distancing himself from the rest of their yearmates, aside from Longbottom.”

“Longbottom?” Bella’s dark eyes gained a malicious edge and her smile turned cruel.

“Yes, the child of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville. He’s really quite a waste. Slow, dumpy, quiet, average looks… It really is a pity that someone like that should be a pureblood.”

“Hm, that actually might be useful, Lucius dear,” she cooed. “If I remember correctly, little Longbottom was born at the end of July that same year as Potter and Draco. It was one of the reasons that I got to play with his parents.” Her eyes took on a faraway look of pleasure. “I will relay this to Our Lord. I’m sure that he’d be interested in something so… droll.”

The blond nodded, staring at the letter once again, but, this time, with a pensive expression on his patrician face. It seemed as if his son wasn’t so useless after all. When the door to his study shut, he turned to begin a reply.

_“Perfidious Albion, Somersetshire, England, UK  
“October 1st, 1997_

_“My son,_  
            “I will admit that at first I was unsuccessful in seeing what good it is that Longbottom and Potter are becoming closer. However, after a discussion with your dear aunt Bella, I recalled Longbottom’s past importance. Keep an eye on both, but remember what your main priority is.  
            “Do not fail to make your next report within the week.  
“Your Father,  
“Lucius Malfoy”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Neville knew there was something going on with Harry, something the other boy was trying to avoid thinking about or discussing. He wasn’t stupid, far from it. True, he was slow to process things, but it was generally because he liked to have all the information that he could gather before he acted. Unlike his fellow Gryffindors, he was cautious.

However, this big something, it had to do with Malfoy. There was no mistaking it after the way his friend had nearly exploded as they left the hospital wing.

Neville had no idea how he really felt about the situation, and so he remained quiet as he thought it over. Malfoy had become different the last year and a half. He no longer insulted everyone he saw, but sadly no one else looked past the blond’s cold exterior. Even Harry, who acknowledged that the other boy had changed, missed that his rival had begun acting differently in sixth year, not this year. Well, maybe Harry had missed it. Sometimes, it was hard to tell with the green-eyed boy, since he played so many of his cards close to the chest.

When Harry had begun actively seeking him out, Neville decided to use his quiet nature to his advantage and watch the other Gryffindors. It was then that he discovered that Ron and Hermione weren’t only pushing Harry away so that they could spend more time together as a couple; they were actively trying to suppress something in their “friend”. What that was, the brown-haired boy hadn’t discovered yet, but he was determined to find out so that his friend was happy.

It had been three days since they’d escorted Malfoy to the hospital wing, and Harry’s magic still occasionally flared, knocking over stacks of books in the library or tipping over a suit of armor in the halls as they went from class to class. It actually got worse when they were around the Hufflepuffs during meal times or when the Slytherin was mentioned. Once, while they were in the Gryffindor common room, Ernie Macmillan insulted Malfoy as Harry walked by, and suddenly, his Potions essay caught on fire.

That had been yesterday. Today was Friday and the first day back for the blond since his attack. He looked healthier than he had for the first time since returning to Hogwarts. He was no longer deathly pale and bruised, his hair was perfectly coiffed, and his eyes seemed to have new life. Neville felt better just looking at his old tormentor, and he vaguely wondered if Harry would notice the change.

It didn’t take long. But, that was only because Ron couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut when it came to Malfoy – not even at breakfast.

“Looks like Ferret Face is back in action,” the redhead spat viciously. Dean and Seamus scowled in sympathy from either side of him. “I still don’t see why the professors aren’t kicking him while he skips days of classes. Who knows, maybe he went home to help with the latest Death Eater attack.”

Neville looked at his Housemates in disdain. “Do you really think that he left school, in the middle of the week, when he’s the most noticeable student right now, aside from Harry?” He made sure that when he asked his question that he sounded like his normal, timid self.

“It would be stupid of him to do such a thing,” Hermione said pompously. “Although, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I heard from Susan Bones that a few fifth years were bragging about running into him earlier in the week in the Hufflepuff common room,” Lavender added.

“Yes, and when Padma walked Terry to the Infirmary Wednesday, she swore that she saw Malfoy in an enclosed bed,” Parvati said.

“I wonder what he said to the Hufflepuffs to make them attack him,” Dean said.

“It’s Malfoy. You need a reason?” Ron asked around a mouth full of food.

That caused Harry to growl, and Neville squeezed his friend’s arm before he launched across the table to throttle the other boy. “Harry, I think I left my Defense essay up in the dorm. Would you help me check?”

Green eyes blinked owlishly at him before sliding shut. He watched as Harry took a deep, calming breath before nodding. “Sure thing, Nev,” he answered, sounding reasonable and somewhat amused. “See the rest of you in class.”

They rose from the table, amidst various replies, and had made it nearly out of the Great Hall before the smooth voice of the lone Slytherin reached out to them.

“Potter, Longbottom, a moment, if you please,” Malfoy said politely. Neville nodded, pulling an oddly quiet Harry with him, as he walked towards an empty meeting room. “I would like to thank you for assisting me Tuesday. I understand that I was not exactly the most gracious that day.”

“Don’t worry about it, Malfoy,” Neville said. “We know that you were in a lot of pain then.”

“Not that you’re exactly known for politeness or anything like that,” Harry added jokingly.

 “I suppose not,” the blond replied. Uncharacteristically, he cleared his throat a few times before continuing. “I-I would… like to speak to you… privately, mind you… sometime within the next day or so.”

 “Can’t do it now?” Harry asked, frowning at the hesitation in the usually proud Slytherin’s voice.

 “I’d rather not.”

 “Both of us, or just Harry?” Neville asked.

 “I would prefer to speak with Potter alone, but I understand if neither of you would trust me in a situation such as that.”

 Both Gryffindors exchanged looks, trying to figure out what the other boy wanted. Yet, they understood that they wouldn’t find out until they spoke with him. Neville just wasn’t sure if he could let Harry go alone.

 “When?” Harry asked.

 “Whenever is most convenient for you,” Malfoy answered. His grey eyes seemed to be holding something back, but it wasn’t anything that the brown-haired boy could catch.

 “Fine, tonight after dinner, Room of Requirement on the 7th floor, and Neville will be there.”

 “That’s fine with me.” And with that, the blond breezed back into the Great Hall to finish breakfast.

 “Wonder what he wants,” Harry mused, never taking his eyes off of the blond.

 “I guess we’ll find out tonight,” Neville replied.

 TBC


	10. Chapter Nine ~ In the Face of Change

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

 

** Chapter Nine – In the Face of Change **

****

The day passed by both achingly slow and terrifyingly quick. Ever since stopping Longbottom and Potter outside the Great Hall during breakfast, Draco had been unable to concentrate on his classes. Luckily, none of his teachers said anything, no doubt blaming his inattention to the fact that he had been attacked lately. And, since it covered up what was really wrong with him, he didn’t disabuse them of that notion.

 

His real problem? The look in Potter’s eyes as he teased him about being rude. It had been soft, almost a caress. It reminded him of the way the other boy’s body felt pressed next to his as they made their way to the Infirmary. (His mind was actively rejecting the memory of Longbottom being there and touching him as well.) It also brought to his mind the way he sounded as he groaned while in his bed, those many weeks ago.

 

It made him _want._

 

And that could be very dangerous.

 

The contents of his father’s last letter left him feeling hollow, terrified. If he didn’t make some ‘progress’ towards the Dark Lord’s goals, he knew that he wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts in the spring term. And if word got back to his home about his _wanting…_ The thought made him shiver.

 

So, when he knocked on the door of the room on the seventh floor, next to the picture of the trolls in tutus, he prayed to Merlin that he was doing the right thing.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The day had gone by too slow. It  felt as if every time Malfoy’s grey eyes met Harry’s that he wanted to drag the other boy out of the class, no matter which they were in. _‘Surely, that isn’t normal?’_

 

And Neville wasn’t the only one who was watching him carefully all day, either. For some reason, his ‘best friends’ had made a point to be stuck to him like glue. It was impossible to miss the looks and snarls that Ron threw in Malfoy’s direction, or those all-knowing glances Hermione gave him. The other Gryffindors decided, wisely, to refrain from doing anything suspicious, and that had Harry’s hackles up more than anything else.

 

Lunch was a very tense time for him, since Hermione and Ron were plastered to his sides as if nothing had changed. And what irritated him the most was that their blatant behavior forced Neville to sit on the other side of the table.

 

And it only got worse when they reached Defense with Remus, their last class of the day. As per usual, every time a question was asked, Hermione’s hand was the first in the air, and because she had demanded to sit next to Harry for that period, she’d managed to elbow him a few lucky times. By the time that the class let out, the dark haired boy was fuming, his entire body rigid with the desire to lash out at the girl.

 

It didn’t help that he knew his real friend was sitting behind him, being forced away by Ron Weasley, or that he could feel those steely grey eyes on him when he’d snorted at one too many of Hermione’s pompously incorrect answers. I mean, didn’t she understand that manticorns weren’t anything like unicorns. She was supposed to be _smart._

So, when Remus asked him to stay behind, Harry took a deep breath and nodded as genially as he could. He couldn’t decide if he was more angry or amused when Ron and Draco seemed to fight to get the other out of the room so they could stay.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger, I understand that you all have your own reasons for wanting to be here. Nonetheless, I’m going to ask you to leave, immediately,” the werewolf said, his normally gentle voice laced with an edge that made the teens all flinch. The Gryffindors all gave a final look at Harry before they complied, but Draco was the one that Harry watched. The blond nodded silently and then left the room with a swish of robes that he learned from Snape, no doubt.

 

“Harry, what was that all about?” Remus asked, drawing the boy’s attention to his honorary godfather.

 

“What was what?” The boy shook his head dismally. _‘There’s just too much that it could be.’_

 

“I meant class. I can smell your frustration with Ron and Hermione. What’s happened?”

 

Harry debated lying; it was easy after all, but ultimately useless. “I dunno, Remus,” he said, taking a seat near the front of the classroom. “It’s been… strained between us since we got back. Nothing’s felt right, and every conversation turns into one of us snapping at each other – usually me at them.”

 

“Harry, is there something that you want to tell me?” He could hear the worry from the man who was the last link to his parents and godfather, but it rankled something awful. He looked up into the amber eyes of the werewolf and tried to rein in his temper so he could answer, but Remus was quick to stop him. “I’m not trying to pry. I’m worried, of course, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

 

“I-I know that, Remus,” he whispered, his anger dissipating quickly. “It’s just that since… Si-Padfoot d-died, I can’t be the same, and that’s what everyone wants!”

 

“No one expects you to-”

 

“Yes they do! And I’m sick of pretending. I tried for all of last year, and the only thing it accomplished was getting McGonagall killed!” Harry realized that his hands were shaking and he was breathing rather erratically. “I can’t… won’t do it anymore,” he whispered.

 

“Harry, it’s not your fault that Minerva died,” the older man said, sighing as pain briefly flashed in his amber eyes. “She was a warrior, much like her namesake. Wise, stern, and deadly… The fact that she took out five Death Eaters alone is a testament to her ability to fight under pressure.”

 

“I know that, but… If I hadn’t tried to handle everything by myself, then… maybe she’d still be alive.” God, he sounded pitiful, but he couldn’t help it. He missed his former Head of House. She and Dumbledore had be stable, secure presences in his life since starting Hogwarts. And the fact that she was gone left a void in his world that wasn’t going to be filled any time soon. “If only I’d stayed here, then she wouldn’t be gone like… Sirius.”

 

Strong arms wrapped around him, surprising the boy momentarily before he broke down, crying harshly. After what felt like an eternity, the tears dried up. He pulled away, embarrassed at cracking the way he had, but feeling a million times better.

 

“Sorry about that, Remus,” he muttered, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his robes.

 

“Don’t be, Harry. I think that was long overdue, if you ask me.” The werewolf smiled and hugged him before releasing him. “So, what happened between you and Ron and Hermione?”

 

“I… Since they got together last year, they’ve become insufferable. Ron was all about how Ginny and I would get married after all this was over and we’d all be one big, happy family. It was a rather nice dream, for a while. But, then, Ginny and I broke up, and somehow it was my fault for ruining his illusion of our ‘future’.”

 

“What happened with Ginny? The two of you were inseparable last year, if I can believe the reports I got while I was out on missions for Dumbledore.”

 

“She… She dumped me. For Luna Lovegood.” Harry blushed as he remembered _that_ conversation.

 

“Oh… well… that’s a different story then.” The older man sighed and helped his friends’ son to stand once more. “That explains a lot, actually. And what about you and Mr. Longbottom?”

 

“Nev’s been great this year. He’s the only one that doesn’t give me those looks that make me feel like a freak in a side-show. He’s calm and quiet.”

 

“It sounds like he’s been a good friend to you, just when you needed one.”

 

“He is, and I really appreciate it.”

 

“And Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Harry blushed momentarily before clearing his throat nervously. “I dunno about him yet. Neville and I are going to find out what’s going on with Malfoy tonight. But, I don’t need Ron and Hermione hanging around like leeches.”

 

“I’ll see what I can’t do to help you out there,” Remus said, causing Harry to look him over carefully.

 

“I’m aware that they were caught snogging in the hallway by a sixth year, and Ms. Granger used her position as Head Girl to get out of it.”

 

Harry snorted, not really surprised at the seemingly out of character behavior in his ‘friend’ since she’d finally gotten Ron to ask her out. It was kind of sad to see her change so much, but this deviation from normalcy helped him out greatly. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? “Thanks, Remus.”

 

“No problem, Harry. Now, I suggest that you head on out before your companions become suspicious.” The man smiled. “Although, you may want to freshen up before you go anywhere. You’re welcome to use the bathroom in my private quarters.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, enclosed by all the other seventh years except for Malfoy. The wireless was playing the new Weird Sisters’ song, and it felt like a party, even if all they were doing was talking and doing homework. Neville was at his right, reading a book on Herbology, shooting suspicious looks at Ron and Hermione, who were surrounded by the rest of the Gryffindors, as if holding court. The bespeckled boy was happy that someone was truly on his side. However, he could see how his friend’s behavior was getting a little overboard. He was about to suggest they leave for the library before dinner when the door to the common room swung open, revealing an _extremely_ perturbed Professor Swanly.

 

“Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, you will both accompany me, this instant,” the thin woman said with a tone of voice that brooked no disobedience. The two students in question rose and followed the Transfiguration professor out of the door, faces pale and silent as the grave.

 

“Wonder what that’s about?” Lavender asked as she made eyes at Ernie Macmillan, who blushed as he returned her attention.

 

“I heard they were caught snogging near the dungeons and a sixth year caught them. Hermione, _evidently_ , threatened to take points from Hufflepuff and to give the poor kid a week’s detentions with Filch if she said anything,” Seamus said, earning him looks of shock from Ernie and Susan Bones.

 

“What the hell? Why would she do that?” Terry Boot asked, putting an arm around Padma Patil, who smiled before snuggling against the Ravenclaw’s chest.

 

“Seems absolute power does corrupt absolutely,” Harry said softly, earning him hard looks from the others.

 

“You don’t seem so surprised, Harry,” Dean replied. Harry shrugged in response.

 

“It all went to her head, kinda like Malfoy with that Inquisitorial Squad bullshit fifth year.”

 

“God, he was such a prat then,” Justin Finch-Fletchley added. “I mean, he’s always been a bit of one, but he and Parkinson were insufferable _bints_ with Umbridge here.”

 

“Can we please not talk about that?” Parvati pleaded as she wiggled in Dean’s loose embrace. “It was a very ugly time.”

 

“It hasn’t gotten much better since then, ‘Vati,” Lavender said.

 

“Well, no, I guess not,” the dark-ed girl replied, flipping her long, black hair behind her shoulder in annoyance. “At least we haven’t got to deal with Malfoy’s cronies this year.”

 

“True,” many of the others responded.

 

Harry was determined to ignore his classmates, but every time that Malfoy’s name was mentioned, his hackles went up. A few times, he’d had to stop himself from truly defending the blond boy, and it was only a very sharp look from Neville that saved him. It was with great relief that he noticed the time. “Nev, let’s head down to the Great Hall for supper.”

 

The brown-haired boy closed his book and stood. “Yeah, the doors should be open by now.”

 

Their conversation caught the attention of the others and they were heard to make plans to meet each other at the tables downstairs. They all stood and made their way to the Great Hall, surprised to find a very red Ron Weasley and a pale Hermione Granger already there at the Gryffindor table, pointedly not looking at one another.

 

“What happened?” Seamus asked, sounding worried.

 

“We have detention with Professor Swanly for the next week, starting tonight,” Hermione whispered, obviously embarrassed out of her skin.

 

“Why?” Parvati asked.

 

“I’d rather not say,” Ron replied heatedly.

 

“Is it about-”

 

“Drop it,” Harry said shortly. “It’s obviously private, and you shouldn’t pry if they don’t want to tell you.” Everyone at the table blushed, obviously feeling awkward, and dinner passed in strained silence. Harry and Neville were the first ones finished and made their way quickly to the Room of Requirement – to make sure that no one else tried to use it that night and to get the room ready for their discussion with Malfoy. Whatever it was, Harry was more than ready to get it done and over with.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When the door swung open, Draco was surprised to find what appeared to be a posh sitting room. A huge fireplace took up the entire right wall, complete with roaring fire and a painting of the Founders above the mantelpiece. In front of the fire, in a semi-circle, were three stuffed chairs of varying shape, but all upholstered with a very tasteful fabric that was a deep shade of blue with gold fleur-de-lis. Potter was sitting in the one that faced the door, while Longbottom sat opposite, leaving the settee in the middle for himself.

 

He would have been comforted by the scene, except that he had no idea what was going to happen while the three boys were there.

 

“Come in, Malfoy,” Potter’s deep voice called, bringing Draco from his thoughts.

 

“Thank you, Potter,” he said, sitting gracefully on the piece of furniture provided to him. “Before we begin, I would like to get this out of the way – I am not, nor have I ever been, a Death Eater.”

 

Longbottom’s serious brown eyes stared harshly at his face. “Prove it.”

 

With a sigh, Draco pulled back the left sleeve of his robe, followed by that of his shirt. He then shoved his left forearm into the chubby Gryffindor’s face, showing him his perfectly unMarked arm. “Is that enough for you?” he asked snidely.

 

The boy had the good grace to blush lightly before looking away. “Yes, please continue.”

 

The blond harrumphed before going on. “When I returned - after our charming encounter, Potter – I met with the Headmaster. I… told him why I had been sent back.”

 

“And why is that?” Potter asked. Draco faced his rival and nearly drowned in the other boy’s green eyes. He felt the heat creep up into his face, much to his dismay, and was unable to compose himself until he looked away.

 

“I was sent here to spy for the Dark Lord.” Both Gryffindors became stiff and reached for their wands. Draco didn’t move. “I had no intention of actually doing so, but the Headmaster suggested that I… act as if I would.”

 

“The letter!” Longbottom and Draco both looked at Potter as if he’d lost his mind.

 

“What letter, Harry?” Longbottom asked.

 

“I had… a… vision,” the Boy Who Lived started, paused and then began again. “That day that I collapsed in the hallway, Malfoy.”

 

“From the Dark Lord? Then that’s true?”

 

“Yes, Harry has been getting those visions for years now,” Longbottom answered. “Since first year, I think.”

 

Draco felt a chill creep up his spine as they sat, the fire doing nothing in the least to warm him. “The letter I sent was really only to tell my father and his master that I had arrived and the current atmosphere of the school.”

 

“That explains why Voldemort,” Draco and the other Gryffindor cringed, “was so upset,” Potter said with a cruel smile before looking at the Slytherin again. “Why are you telling us this?”

 

“I have received orders to befriend you and Professor Dumbledore so that I can betray you.”

 

“And?” Potter asked.

 

“I would rather not do that, since you are the only two people who have consistently defeated that monster.”

 

“What changed your mind, Malfoy? Up until the end of fifth year, you were doing your level best to prove that you were the perfect mini-Death Eater.”

 

The blond held back a sigh of frustration, knowing that the Golden Boy was correct. He’d been rather horrible to everyone who didn’t fall into what he’d been taught was proper for a pureblood wizard. However, he seriously debated with himself if he should reveal his real reason, until Dumbledore’s last message flashed into his mind. “I will be frank with you then. My mother became extremely ill when my father was sent to Azkaban after that ruckus at the Ministry. She was so ill that I was afraid that she would die.

 

“I, however, was both angry and relieved. My father is not an easy man to deal with. He has extremely exacting standards for me, as his only heir.”

 

“That’s normal, Malfoy. You are, after all, the heir to an old pureblood line,” Longbottom said quietly.

 

“Precisely,” Draco replied. “While it is easy to understand from an objective outlook, it is difficult to live up to.”

 

“So, you’re telling me that you aren’t Daddy’s little foot soldier?” Potter inquired calmly.

 

This conversation was going better and worse than the Slytherin had expected with the questions being volleyed at him by both Gryffindors and his own shame getting in the way. It took every ounce of his deeply rooted control to keep from snapping at the other two boys, for he knew that he needed them as allies, or he would never survive the rest of the school year. _‘Maybe that’s why Dumbledore told me that I needed to talk to Potter about this,’_ he mused.

 

“No, Potter, I don’t wish to follow my father, or his psychotic master.”

 

“So, what do you want from me? I still don’t really see why you changed your mind.”

 

“Perhaps, if I was able to finish, you’d understand.” Potter waved a hand and Draco took a deep breath before continuing. “As I was saying, my mother became ill while he was in Azkaban. At that time, my Aunt Bella,” both Gryffindors snarled at the mention of her name. “I share your sentiment. Anyway, my Aunt Bella and the Dark Lord took up residence in one of the Malfoy estates, not the Manor, but one of our smaller houses in Somersetshire. It took exactly four weeks for the Dark Lord, my aunt, and my two uncles to find a way to free the rest of the Death Eaters from prison. As soon as my father was free, my mother miraculously became well again.

 

“However, my father was angry, and sought to take his frustrations out on her and me. My aunt was only too happy to assist.” Draco took a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to say next. “I begged my mother to flee. I told her that I would stay here and suffer any repercussions, but she was adamant about staying with her husband. So, I remained as well, to protect her as much as possible from those two.”

 

“When did this start, Malfoy?” Potter’s voice was quiet, laced with some emotion that Draco couldn’t place and didn’t like. It sounded too much like pity.

 

“I thought I explained that bit perfectly well, Potter. It began as soon as my father returned home. It was only thanks to Severus that I didn’t go insane from the numerous _Cruciatus_ curses used on me.”

 

The snarl that the dark-haired boy gave made Draco turn his eyes to him immediately. Those green eyes, the ones that made him _want_ the most, were ablaze with fury. “Don’t ever say his name around me,” he growled, making the blond shiver in apprehension. “He’ll be lucky if I let him die peacefully.”

 

“Harry!” Longbottom shouted, a large hand clamping on the Golden Boy’s arm painfully. “You can’t be like that.”

 

The three boys were silent for many moments, and as the quiet drew itself out, Draco became more and more uncomfortable. While he intellectually understood that there was absolutely no love lost between his mentor and Potter, he hadn’t thought it went that deep. Truly, he’d been surprised when the first note from Severus told him to trust no one but his rival, but as he watched the boy over the last few weeks, he could see why. Now, to see the unadulterated _hatred_ the Gryffindor held for their former professor was daunting.

 

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

 

“Dumbledore believes that I need allies while I am here. And part of me agrees with him, and even his choice of you. However, that is secondary,” he said, the last sentence barely a whisper.

 

“And the other?”

 

“The other what, Longbottom?” Draco inquired, lifting one eyebrow in disdain at the awkward boy.

 

“The other part of you, what does it think?” Even through the blush, his voice was strong, commanding, and Draco was forced to admit that he might even respect him when all this was over.

 

“The other part of me remembers a time when I offered my hand in friendship and it was unequivocally thrown back in my face. For the sake of Weasley, if I’m not mistaken.”

 

“You were an arse then,” Potter said, his face softening momentarily. “Just like that time in the robe shop. Such a bloody snob; couldn’t stand you. You reminded me of my cousin, and I _hate_ him. So, yeah, I didn’t want to be your friend then.”

 

“And now?” he whispered. _‘I will not get my hopes up. I will not_ want _anything with the bloody Boy Who Lived.’_ And yet, his heart lurched painfully as the Gryffindor smiled.

 

“Now, we wait and see.”

 

TBC


	11. Chapter Ten ~ Lost and Confused

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

  **A/N:** It really is a shame that I dislike ickle Ronniekins, because I adore the twins, and now I have no idea how to bring them in. /cry

  **Chapter Ten – Lost and Confused**

****

_He knew that it was a dream. In fact, he’d had this dream many times before. All around him, screams of the dying and injured filled his ears and the smell of blood assaulted both his nose and mouth. He didn’t want to look. He knew what he’d see, but he couldn’t help it. Green eyes slowly opened, and through thick, black lashes, he_ saw _Death all around him._

_Thankfully, he couldn’t see just who the dead bodies were that surrounded him, but every once in a while, he’d catch a glimpse of shockingly ginger red hair or skin the shade of dark chocolate and his heart would clench in his chest._

_Unfortunately, he also saw a shock of pale, nearly white, blond hair, and he had to keep himself from crying out in anguish._ ‘Please don’t let it be him. Please don’t let it be…’ _was the only thing that ran through his mind as he slowly, ploddingly, carefully crawled over to the body that hair belonged to._

_And, when he turned the pale figure over, he nearly sobbed in relief. The hair was the right color, but belonged to the wrong person. He was staring at the unmistakable face of Lucius Malfoy, not his son. The vicious man’s face was not in its usual sneer. No, this time, it was forever frozen in a look of abject horror, of utter disbelief. And for that, the Boy Who Lived was eternally grateful for._

_However, he didn’t have time to linger over the corpse of one of the few people he’d actively hated in his young life. He_ had _to find Voldemort. He_ had _to end this all. He had to find Draco and make sure he was okay. Then, he could collapse and sleep._

_Sleep, he hadn’t done that in days, at least not properly. A few stolen hours here and there were all that anyone had been able to get for weeks. When Voldemort had decided to attack Hogwarts, the entire school, staff and students alike, had been drafted to fight against the madman and his followers. Luckily, the Order of the Phoenix had been able to Floo into the school, but then Dumbledore had had to shut out all outside connections. They weren’t even getting owls anymore._

_And the grounds looked like Hell on Earth. Gone was the pleasant scenery that had welcomed students for many years as they learned how to be wizard and witches. Gone was the sense of peace and security the old stone building wore. Now, now there was only Death and fighting._

_But, he didn’t really sense that, not really. All he felt were the injuries he’d sustained and the blood-stiffened fabric that rubbed sensitive skin raw. And aside from the death screams, a thin, reedy voice gave out peels of maniacal laughter between the shouting of spells._

_Suddenly, his world fell even farther into the depths of chaos. There, in front of him, was Draco. But, this Draco wasn’t_ his _Draco. Those silvery grey eyes that he loved, that had looked at him with such affection, were lifeless. This Draco was the victim of the_ Imperius _curse, and the sight broke the last bit of Harry’s heart._

_Of course that monster would use Draco against him, of course. It was the kind of thing that Voldemort got his sick jollies off with._

_“Don’t do this,” Harry pleaded with the blond. “Please, Draco, I know you can hear me still. Fight him. Please.”_

_“Harry,” Draco whispered mechanically, pulling at the Gryffindor’s heart even more._

_“It’s no use, Potter. Your little toy is now mine,” Voldemort said, his voice making the dark haired teen shiver in disgust. “And when I’m done having him kill you, I will rape his body as well, not just his mind, before he joins you.”_

_He shouldn’t have said that. At those words, Harry’s blood boiled, fatigue and hunger forgotten in waves of undiluted hatred for the creature that had taken absolutely_ everything _from him. Without blinking, the boy stood and leveled his wand coolly at the snake-like face with the red eyes. He readied himself. There was no way that this_ monster _was going to have Draco._ None.

_Coldly, he readied himself, nerves feeling as if they were made of steel. With a smirk, so similar to the one that the beautiful blond next to his enemy normally would have worn, he cast his spell._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry woke up, stifling a moan of absolute agony as his scar bled profusely. He’d had that dream again, the same one for the last two weeks. It was the same one he’d had since that meeting with Malfoy and Neville in the Room of Requirement. The only thing that changed this time from every other one was Voldemort using Malfoy against him. The thought that he could be so easily compromised sent shivers up and down Harry’s spine. Could he really afford to have such a large liability as that?

 

Ignoring the implications of the dream and that last thought both, the black haired boy got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom, snagging his glasses from the bedside table, but not putting them on just yet. The candlelight flickered to life as he stepped over the threshold, casting a safe, warm glow on the tiles, sinks and mirrors. It was to one of the sinks that he stumbled, feeling as if he’d had his head cracked wide open, which was exactly what it appeared to have happened as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

 

As he carefully cleaned up the crimson liquid that was smeared down his face, Harry felt his thoughts drift back to the last few days. He’d spent them with Neville, of course, and Malfoy. Surprisingly, the blond had been on his best behaviour. He was charming, witty, and fun. Part of the Gryffindor was sad to think that this was the person that he’d spent the last six years fighting with nearly every day, but he then remembered that Malfoy usually gave as well as he got, so it wasn’t entirely Harry’s fault that they hadn’t gotten along.

 

When finished, he did a quick _Tempus_ charm, revealing that it was close to six in the morning. Giving it up as a bad idea to go back to sleep, he gathered his things to take a shower. He supposed it was too much to hope that he’d be alone, and the few other early risers in the boys’ showers stared at him as if he was going to suddenly turn on them and start throwing around hexes and curses. It felt like second year all over again. Except, this time, there was no Ron or Hermione to remind him that he was good.

 

_‘There’s no point in feeling sorry for yourself, you great baby,’_ he thought fiercely. Rushing as much as was prudently possible, he showered, dressed, brushed his teeth and tried to tame his crazy hair. With a sigh, he headed down to breakfast, ready to see how the day would work itself out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco was startled awake, not entirely sure what it was that prompted the abrupt action. He sat up, making his breathing calm down. The dungeon room was silent aside from the ever present drip on the walls. Then, he heard it – a light tapping on the one window his room contained.

 

He grabbed his wand from under his pillow and carefully padded over to the window, a Blasting curse ready on his lips in case of danger. To his lack of surprise, he saw an owl. Granted, it wasn’t one he was familiar with, but it didn’t look very threatening, which meant that the message it carried could only be from his sometime correspondent. Cautiously, he opened the window and the bird flew in, resting its panting body on his desk.

 

_‘Why is it that when Sev sends owls, they look half-dead?’_ he thought before going over to relieve the owl of its tiny scroll while searching for a treat that he would have normally fed his own eagle owl, Tiberius. He received a grateful hoot in reply as he looked over the parchment.

 

_“Draco – I hear that you have heeded my words. Now, listen carefully to what I have to say. There is no way to save Narcissa at this time. You_ must _put your own self-preservation above hers. Your father and his master will, no doubt, try to get you to take the Mark over Christmas holidays. Find a way to stay at the school, under Potter’s protection if you must. Time is running short. I do what I can, as you do. – S”_

 

His mood turning dark, Draco read the letter through two more times before tossing it into the fireplace. Slowly, the yellowed paper turned to ash in the flames, but his mind was working overtime. So, he wasn’t moving fast enough for the Dark Lord and would be forced to take the Dark Mark if he went home. There was no doubt in his mind that his _dear_ Aunt Bellatrix had her hand in this. The entire situation stank of her meddling.

 

However, it was only the middle of October. That meant he had two months or so to convince his father that it was wisest that he stay at Hogwarts and Potter – _Harry,_ his mind reinforced – that he could be trusted enough to become closer.

 

The blond sighed at his predicament. Truthfully, spending time with Harry Potter was now no longer the burden it would have been in previous years. In fact, he was beginning to truly enjoy the other boy’s company. He could even see the value of Longbottom. While the boy was clumsy and not as polished as his Slytherin associates, he was quiet, thoughtful, and _nice._ That word made him sneer just thinking it.

 

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he muttered darkly as he turned to shower before heading to the Great Hall.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

True to form, Harry and Longbottom were sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table. Weasley, Granger and the rest of the seventh years appeared to be deep in conversation, one which got louder as Draco entered.

 

“I don’t know why he’s been hanging around Malfoy,” Weasley shouted as his normally pale face grew as dark as his hair. “I still think it’s some stupid plot those Slytherins have going on.”

 

“What Slytherins?” Harry asked darkly, forcing the rest of the table to look up and blush furiously. “The only Slytherin here is _Draco_ , and he’s been on his best behaviour since he arrived.”

 

“True,” Longbottom replied quietly. “In fact, Malfoy has been the most civil and polite person in the school since his return.”

 

“Really?” Weasley shot back. “Then why don’t you ask _Draco,_ ” he spat that word, “about threatening me his first weekend back? And why don’t you ask _Draco_ why he didn’t come back to school with the rest of us at the very beginning of the school year?”

 

“Hm, I would, if I didn’t already know the answers to those questions, Ron,” Harry said. “I seem to remember _you_ threatened _him_ first, and he defended himself, _without_ using a curse or hex, _which you would have deserved._ ” The black-haired boy’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And as for why he came back late, if his answer was good enough for Dumbledore, it should be good enough for you too.”

 

“Well, it’s not! He’s up to something and I don’t trust him! I don’t like that he’s getting close to you!”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need your approval for everything I do, Weasley,” Harry replied coldly. He stood up from the table, ignoring the looks of outrage and confusion the other Gryffindors wore. “My business is just that, _mine._ You’ll smartly remember that before you start throwing accusations around the Great Hall in front of everyone. Proof. You’d better get some of that before you even _dare_ think about approaching me again.”

 

When Longbottom stood to join his friend, Harry shook his head. “No need, Nev. Stay here and finish breakfast. You know where to find me when you’re done.”

 

Draco had watched the entire exchange from the doors, both horrified and satisfied at the way Harry had defended him. It was amazing how very Slytherin Harry’s side of the argument had been, while Weasley had been the epitome of a Gryffindor blockhead. However, with the Golden Boy’s departure, he could feel the stares of the other students land on him, and it – truth be told, only to himself, mind you – scared him. But, with Harry’s words ringing through his head, he straightened his shoulders and strolled over to the nearly deserted Slytherin table for his morning cuppa and some toast.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Neville finished his breakfast and flashed a brief smile to the lone blond at the other side of the room, effectively ignoring the glare Ron sent in his direction. Truly, the fact that Harry had remained as cool as he had was a testament to the fact his dark-haired friend was trying to contain a massive explosion. It was just sad that the rest of their Housemates were too blind to see it. Ron and Hermione should have known about his temper, seeing as how Harry hadn’t remained the sweet kid they’d all met their first year. In fact, Harry hadn’t been the same since fifth year and the whole mess with the Department of the Mysteries.

 

He knew where his friend was. He’d be in the library, in the corner that they and Malfoy had occupied nearly every day since their little tête-a-tête-a-tête. It was odd to think that he and Harry now spent most of their time with the person who’d tortured them for the first five years at Hogwarts. But, truth be told, Harry wasn’t the only one to notice the fact that the Slytherin Prince seemed to have grown uncomfortable with his crown during sixth year. And, he also knew something that both boys probably wished he didn’t.

 

What neither knew was that Neville was a mild empath, and he’d been picking up on the unresolved sexual tension between the two of them since fourth year. And since they’d begun hanging out, it had gotten worse. It was only a matter of time before one of them caved. And if they didn’t, then Neville would take matters into his own hand. He _was_ a Gryffindor, after all. But, there was a conversation they needed to have before anything else happened. And it was _time._

 

TBC


	12. Interlude One ~ Line for Line

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH  
 **Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 

 **A/N** : This happened to be much easier to write than the past few chapters. Enjoy the “familial” connection between the Malfoys. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the reference to the Malfoy estate in Somerset came from. Sorry for the delay. I was waiting for my new beta to get the chapters to me, but I couldn’t wait, so the mistakes are all mine.

****

** Interlude – Line for Line **

 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, UK

Saturday, November 1st, 1997

 

Dear Father,

 

I am pleased to tell you that I have made progress with the Headmaster. He and I often chat on the weekends; after all of my school work is finished of course. I have ascertained that he is communicating with many wizards that are largely in Northern Africa. While I have been unable to actually get one of the letters in my hands to read, I can only guess that they have something to do with alchemy. One thing comes to mind when that branch of study comes up, but it is useless to conjecture on my part. Perhaps you or the Dark Lord could ascertain the true reason?

 

I have another piece of good news for you. I have struck up a friendship, of sorts, with Potter. While I know that that was not part of my assignment, I find it is easier to be on good terms with the Dark Lord's enemy to get into Dumbledore's good graces. In fact, that was the original reason that the Headmaster seemed to take an active interest in my person.

 

However, the atmosphere with the student body seems to be getting increasingly aggressive towards the great House of Salazar Slytherin. Many of my fellow Housemates have been accosted in the halls, and considering there are perhaps ten students above fourth year here, it concerns me. Many of the younger years have been sent to the Infirmary for broken bones, bleeding wounds, curses and burns. Oddly enough, the Hufflepuffs seem to be the perpetrators of most of the violence, since Gryffindor is led, mostly, by Potter's actions. I have suggested, strongly, the aforementioned students write to their families and ask for a withdrawal from school, but most seem extremely reluctant to do so.

 

Potter's behaviour, on the other hand, appears to be greatly changed this year. He no longer associates with the blood traitor or Mudblood. In fact, his closest companions are Longbottom, the Weasley female, and Luna Lovegood - all of whom were with him when they confronted you at the Department of Mysteries. He has yet to reveal why he has deviated from his normal actions to me, as I believe he is still suspicious of my reasons, but I _am_ working to change that.

 

I hope that you are well and things on your end are as successful. Please pass on my love to Mother and ask that she write more. It is sadly boring here without my regular, decent companions for stimulating company, but I am coping as well as to be expected.

 

Your dutiful son,

Draco

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Perfidious Albion, Somersetshire, England, UK

Monday, November 3rd, 1997

 

My Son,

Your successes please me greatly and show that you are improving your Malfoy intelligence by leaps and bounds. The Dark Lord rejoiced greatly when I relayed your message to him during a private meeting, and has assured me that things will change very soon.

 

It was ingenious of you to use Potter to get closer to Dumbledore, although I should have expected no less from a child of mine.

 

Rest assured that the Dark Lord is willing to have you removed from Hogwarts if your safety is in danger. You have more than proved your usefulness and can only continue to do so where you are, but it would serve no purpose if you spend more time in the Infirmary than with the other students.

 

And you say that Potter is no longer with the Weasley boy or the Mudblood? Splendid. Now, all you need to do is get him away from the rest of his meddling friends so that we may present him to our Lord. If you require assistance in the situation, please do not hesitate to ask for it.

 

I do regret the fact that none of your year mates are there for you, but trust that they are doing their own work at both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons in stirring sympathies to our sides with the students. Regretfully, the loss of Igor as Headmaster of Durmstrang was a blow, but really, the coward would have done more harm than good. I can tell you that Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Bulstrode have been successful. Zabini, the Greengrasses, Davis, and Parkinson, I have not heard from yet, but I have no doubt that your fiancée is trying her hardest to please our Lord and fulfill his goals, just as you are.

 

I have passed on your message to your mother, and she will write you as soon as she is able. Unfortunately, she became ill recently, but I assure you that it will pass. I look forward to hearing from you soon, my heir.

 

Your extremely pleased father,

Lucius Malfoy

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, UK

Saturday, November 8th, 1997

 

Dear Father,

Thank you for the information about my friends. I am sure that Pansy is doing as much as she can where she is. She will not let me down in that regard. Blaise, I do not know, considering there are rumors among the other students that Mrs. Zabini has gone into hiding. I would watch him. I understand that he and his mother have family is both West Africa and the West Indies, and he may disappear along with her. And was it really a question as to Vince and Greg succeeding in Durmstrang? The Dark Lord's presence was strong before they arrived. I would have been surprised if they had failed.

 

I have another piece of information for you. It seems as if Terry Boot, a seventh year Ravenclaw, is unhappy with the way that Potter has abandoned the rest of our year mates. Almost unreasonably so. Perhaps one should talk to his parents?

 

I have spent less time under the care of that dreadful dragon, Pomfrey, this year than fifth year, so I cannot complain. The only thing that I regret is that I am missing Severus' potions expertise when receiving care. Slughorn is possibly the most useless instructor we have this year, and that is saying something, considering that Dumbledore’s pet werewolf is back teaching Defense. I have had to resort to making my own Dreamless Sleep and Pain Relieving Potions and Bruise-Be-Gone Salve. Included is a list of ingredients that I require to continue to do so. Would you be so kind as to send them to me?

 

Slughorn continues to annoy me greatly. He questions me constantly, both in Potions class and about dorm policy. How a man like that is Head of Slytherin, I will never know.

 

Thank you for updating me about Mother's condition and I am glad that she is recovering nicely.

 

Let me know if there is anything else that you need addressed and I will take care of it as soon as possible.

 

Your devoted son,

Draco

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Perfidious Albion, Somersetshire, England, UK

Monday, November 10th, 1997

 

My Son,

I have passed along the information about Zabini's wavering to our Lord. It does appear that Mrs. Zabini disappeared about a month ago, and without a trace. I believe the Greengrasses had something to do with that, but cannot confirm it. Your aunt and uncle are going to investigate that fact, so the truth will come out sooner rather than later.

 

Your aunt Bella has shared some good news with me recently. It seems as if you will have a cousin - a proper, pureblood cousin this time. Also, it appears that you will not only become a cousin, but an older brother as well. I cannot express how I feel about either news fact. However, you will be expected to write letters of congratulations to both your mother and aunt immediately. Remember that Bellatrix has wanted a child ever since we presented you to our Lord and remain respectful. I understand that there is no love lost between yourself and your aunt since her rather harsh way of teaching you Occlumency and Legilimency, but you are a Malfoy and will remember your place.

 

And Boot, you say? Well, that is a respectable, pureblood family, although they have always attempted to stay neutral. I will pass that along the proper channels as well.

 

I am glad that you are doing much better with the rest of the students. Dare I hope that Potter is attempting to keep the sheep in line? Of course, you will have realized that I have included the requested items, as well as others. I would suggest you also start casting the standard charms and hexes in the dungeons, as you should have been since you arrived. I will not forgive you for being remiss in doing so, and we shall speak about this in greater detail over the Christmas Holidays.

 

Continue as you are, and report regularly.

 

Your very satisfied father,

Lucius Malfoy

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, UK

Friday, November 14th, 1997

 

Dear Mother,

Father has told me the happy news. Congratulations. I hope to be able to embrace my new brother or sister by the Easter Holidays. Do you know which you are having as of yet? Or is it too soon to tell?

 

Please promise me that you will take proper care of yourself and write me as soon as possible. If there is anything I can do to assist you, then you must let me know. You know, Mother, you need only ask and I would do everything in my power for you.

 

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

 

Avec tout mon amour,

Ton dragon

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, UK

Saturday, November 15th, 1997

 

Dear Aunt Bella,

I hear that congratulations are in order. I look forward to greeting a proper cousin as soon as possible. Your Master must be elated. Take care of yourself so that nothing happens until my cousin is born. Pass my salutations along to Uncle Rudolphus as well.

 

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Perfidious Albion, Somersetshire, England, UK

Sunday, November 16th, 1997

 

Dearest Widdle Drakie,

Your note amuses me greatly. Of course I will pass along your words to Rudolphus. No doubt he will find entertainment in them as well. Remember your place, for I hear that Cissy is in a very delicate state also. Who knows what could happen to a woman in her condition… I recall all too well that she had such problems when she was pregnant with you.

 

Our Lord is more than happy to have two new additions to his family. But… these things are fragile.

 

Until next time, my precious nephew,

Auntie Bella <3


	13. Chapter Eleven ~ Life Less Frightening

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

 **A/N:** The spell listed here is one of my own making. Please don’t take it without asking first and giving credit. _Juntar_ means to join two things together.

 

** Chapter Eleven – Life Less Frightening **

 

Draco whispered the password to the gargoyle and watched, bored, as it jumped aside, revealing the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office. It was Saturday and time for their weekly meeting. After the last few letters he’d received from his father and his aunt both, he was starting to regret his decision to confide in the old man the way he was. Although he’d told Dumbledore that he had no illusions about where his mother’s loyalties were, she was still his mother and he loved her greatly. However, there was the benefit of getting close to Potter to contend with. And Severus’ mysterious communications that Potter was the only one worth staying loyal to...

 

In other words, he was conflicted. And if there was one thing that Draco hated more than not getting his way, it was being conflicted. That meant that he wasn’t certain, and Draco’s life had always been _certain._

Steeling himself for another exercise in holding his temper, Draco knocked on the door and waited until he heard Dumbledore beckon him in before entering. “Ah, my boy, how are you this week?”

 

“I am fine, Headmaster,” he replied, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the man’s desk. He took a good look at the Headmaster and sighed inwardly. The man looked tired, worn down, ancient. It was not something that really inspired confidence in the younger man, but he still had his true hopes buried with Harry Potter, so the leader of the Light side was inconsequential in the long run. “Things with P-Harry and Longbottom continue to improve.”

 

“Glad to hear it. Now, in regards to your father’s letters about the Christmas holidays,” Dumbledore started, blue eyes gaining some life as they sat comfortably. “I’m not sure that that would be wise for you.”

 

“I _can_ keep my family from discovering our conversations. I was taught both Occlumency and Legilimency by my aunt.”

 

“I understand that, Draco. It is not your family that I am worried about this time. I know that you have been telling Voldemort and Lucius about your friendship with Harry in the vaguest of terms, but I have reason to believe that they will not be happy with all that has transpired. I cannot guarantee your safety if you return to them, nor can I see you being allowed to leave their watchful eyes afterwards.”

 

“I had wondered about that, sir.”

 

“How would you feel about staying here for the break then?” The old man gave him what was supposed to be a kind, reassuring smile, but it only set Draco’s hackles up. “Harry will, of course, be staying here, and I’m sure he would welcome the company.”

 

“I will think about that, sir, but I don’t see how my father would approve of it. He would be greatly disappointed if I do not return. I do not wish for that to happen. Who knows what would happen to my mother if it did?”

 

“Speaking of, have you heard from your mother lately?”

 

“No, sir, I have not.” Even though Lucius told him that he would have his mother write to him, and Draco sent the letter of congratulations to her, she had yet to send him any letters, and that greatly worried him. _‘Have they already killed her and just haven’t bothered to tell me?’_ “I believe that it is possible that she has been ‘taken care of’, regardless of what my father and Aunt Bella say.”

 

“Well, let’s hope that that is not the case,” Dumbledore said distractedly. “There is no reason to think the worst right now. However, I really would prefer if you would remain here at Hogwarts. As you are seventeen now, it _is_ your decision whether you stay or go.”

 

Draco blinked, trying to keep his face blank as he thought. He’d nearly forgotten in his desperation to be removed from his hellish house that he was an adult in the eyes of the Ministry now. _‘I can stay here… and Father would have to respect that decision… or at least he would have to try and find a great reason to disregard my wishes. And I don’t think that he or the Dark Lord, either one, is quite ready to face Dumbledore just yet. Excellent.’_

 

He allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “I believe I _shall_ stay over break, Headmaster.”

 

“Wonderful, my boy, absolutely,” the old man replied with a smile that seemed to take off half his age. “Now, is there anything else that you need to speak to me about?”

 

“Actually, sir, there is. There is a certain redheaded Gryffindor stirring up trouble…”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Neville sighed in frustration as he watched both Harry and Malfoy at their table in the library. Supposedly, the three boys were studying for a Defense test slated for the next day. Truthfully, the other two were trying very hard not to touch or look at one another and spent most of the time making their comments to _him_ instead of each other. This had gone on for the last month, and the normally shy brunet was about to tear his hair out. “Look, Harry, Malfoy, this isn’t working out.”

 

Both boys looked up at him, grey and green eyes showing concern and unfeigned ignorance. He really didn’t _want_ to do this, but if he didn’t… Well, it wasn’t going to go that far. “None of us are actually studying, and it’s not really all that surprising.”

 

“What do you mean, Nev?” Harry asked, running a hand through his messy hair.

 

“Yes, Longbottom, what _do_ you mean?” Malfoy drawled.

 

“You two, you’re driving me insane.” Again, he was only given looks of confusion, but the blond appeared to be getting a little angry. “It’s obvious to me that there is something between you two and if you don’t sort it out, then…” He couldn’t finish that statement. He didn’t know what he could say that would fix it, but this wasn’t something he was going to turn tail and hide from either.

 

“There’s nothing between us,” Harry said awkwardly. The faint blush on his friend’s cheeks was only proving his point though.

 

“Really, you’re seeing things,” Malfoy said, his usual cavalier attitude failing him miserably.

 

“Just. Stop. You’re both lying, and doing a shit job of it, by the way.” Neville sighed heavily, wishing he was anywhere but there at that moment. “I am an empath. I _know_ what’s going on. Now, it’s time for the two of you to act like grown-ups and stop ignoring what’s wrong.”

 

Brown eyes bored into Harry’s green, and his friend squirmed under his glare. “You’re a Gryffindor, Harry. We’re supposed to be brave. Act like it.” A snicker from the other side had him turning on the blond. “And you, you’re the Slytherin Prince. And you’re acting more cowardly than I thought possible. You’re two of the most powerful wizards in the school, of our year, and yet here you both are, acting like some hopeless Hufflepuffs, afraid to say anything because you don’t want to admit that you might just like one another!”

 

 _‘There, that’ll shut them both up.’_ And in truth, it had. They were both sitting there with their mouths most unattractively hanging open, eyes widened in fear, and blushes so red that they matched the piping of Harry’s uniform and tie. Malfoy seemed like he was going to recover, but Madam Pince’s shrill voice silenced them all.

 

“Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, you will remove yourselves from this library, now.”

 

All three boys scrambled to gather their belongings and leave the woman’s domain. And just as Harry and Malfoy were sneaking off in different directions, Neville gathered his wits, raised his wand and whispered a spell. “ _Juntarus.”_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to die of mortification at the fact that a band of green magic had just joined his hand to one of Draco’s, or if he wanted to beat his friend senseless. However, when he looked down, all he saw was alabaster skin practically molded into his tawny-golden hand. And the Slytherin’s hand was warm and slightly damp, as if he was nervous. He knew his face was still red and his heart was pounding away in his chest, but a part of him was rejoicing at being this close to his former rival. He just wasn’t sure how said rival was taking this.

 

“Longbottom, remove this, now,” Draco said through clenched teeth.

 

“Sorry, no can do, Malfoy,” Neville replied merrily. “You and Harry need to settle this so we can get back to more important things, and I’d like to go one day without a blinding headache, thank you very much.”

 

“ _Finite Incantatum!_ ”  Harry lowered his holly wand and sighed when nothing happened. “Neville, take this thing off.”

 

“Not until you two talk!” His friend’s normally inviting and pleasant face was scrunched up in disgust. “I won’t eavesdrop, but handle this, Harry! You can come find me when you have. And don’t bother lying, because I’ll know.” And just like that, Neville stormed away, and Harry was stuck to Draco with no recourse.

 

“Oh, just bloody wonderful,” Draco sneered, shaking their joined hands violently. “And I can’t even stop holding your fucking hand like some love sick Hufflepuff either!”

 

Suddenly, the humor of the situation caught up with Harry and he began laughing. “And what in Merlin’s beard is so funny, Potter!”

 

Harry let his laughs die down to an occasional snicker before he bothered answering. “Just this whole thing, Draco… We got bested. By Neville.”

 

“I do see some sort of perverse humor in that, but I am not amused.” The blond tried to sneer, but his lips were too busy turning up into a tiny smile. But that died all too quickly. “What do you think Longbottom meant?”

 

Harry shook his head, his eyes still staring longingly at the blond’s pink full lips. “Not here,” he breathed, noticing again how very warm the other’s hand was in his own.

 

Draco seemed to realize what Harry was trying to say and pulled them into a nearby classroom. Harry hastily shut the door behind them and made sure to cast both Locking and Silencing charms before they began speaking. “So?”

 

Harry whetted his suddenly dry lips. “So…”

 

“What was that outburst all about?”

 

“I guess it was pretty straight forward.”

 

“Did you know that he was empathic?”

 

“Not a clue, but a few other things make sense now that I know what they stem from.”

 

“Great, now you can translate Longbottom. Just what I needed.”

 

“I didn’t say that I could! And there’s no reason to act like such a prat, Draco!”

 

“Oh, really, Harry,” the blond drawled, making the Gryffindor shiver at the use of his personal name. “There is every reason to be upset. First of all, I just got yelled at, by Neville Longbottom, about how to behave like a proper Slytherin. Then, I was kicked out of the library, one of the few places where it is safe for me to be, outside of my own room. And last, but certainly not least, I was magically _joined_ to the Boy Who Wouldn’t Die! I do believe that that is cause for me to be pissed.”

 

“Fine, be pissed, but he has a point!”

 

“Oh, really, do enlighten me then.”

 

Harry squeezed the hand he was holding and shoved them in the blond’s face. “This happened because we obviously have more than just a few unresolved issues!”

 

Draco blinked, grey eyes staring intently at Harry’s face and making him flush, but not in anger this time. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly.

 

“So, what do we do about this?” Harry whispered, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. He was alone, with Draco, in a locked and silenced classroom, and no one knew where they were. The entire situation made it decidedly harder to breathe normally and he felt a familiar and unwelcomed tightening in his trousers. “It’s not like we can walk around like this.”

 

“We talk, obviously,” Draco drawled. Harry looked up and noticed that the other boy’s flush was now taking up his whole face and moving down his neck.

 

“O-okay.”

 

The silence was deafening, making the pounding of Harry’s heart sound like a jackhammer. He looked up again and saw Draco’s pink tongue reach out to lick his lips. Harry’s erection twitched and he swallowed uncomfortably. _‘This isn’t working,’_ he thought miserably. _‘I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack or come in my pants. I’m not sure which is worse right now.’_

 

His thoughts were cut off as the blond stepped closer, and Harry could feel the heat the other teen’s body was generating. “I’d like to kiss you,” Draco whispered.

 

“Wh-what? N-” His protests were cut off by a soft pressure against his mouth, which he hesitantly returned. He was rewarded by a soft moan from Draco and a deepening of the kiss. Those indulgent, sweet lips pressed harder and the lithe body they were attached to practically molded onto Harry’s own, making him whimper in arousal. “St-stop…”

 

Draco’s silver eyes slowly slid open, desire and heat burning brightly. “Do you really want me to, Harry?” he purred. His free left hand ghosted across the front of Harry’s robes, sending shocks of pleasure through the Gryffindor’s body.

 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, a sickening feeling creeping up his throat from how needy he sounded.

 

“I don’t think you do,” Draco responded. “I think you want more than that.”

 

“Why… why are you doing this to me?”

 

“Because I want you.”

 

Harry blinked, not having really expected such an honest answer or the earnest tone that accompanied it. “Wh-what?”

 

“You heard me, and I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” Ah, there was the sneering, imperious voice he’d learn to accept when dealing with his Slytherin counterpart. “Longbottom _is_ correct, much as it shames me to admit that. We have been dancing around one another for far too long. Tell me, do you want me to leave?”

 

“Leave?” Somewhere, along the way, Harry’s ability to form full thoughts of his own had been abandoned, and he flushed in embarrassment at the way Draco made him feel inferior.

 

“Yes, I can guarantee you this,” Draco said, his voice low and cutting, eyes dangerously narrowed, all traces of arousal and intimacy gone. “If I leave this school, I will not return. I will be forced into _His_ service, whether I wish it or no. Snape and Dumbledore both know this. And so do you, if you thought beyond the fact that I make you uncomfortable.”

 

“You don’t!” His blush deepened and he cleared his throat. “Make me uncomfortable, that is. I mean, you do, but…”

 

A pale brow rose as Draco placed his left hand on a slender hip. “But?”

 

“I… uh… like… er… it.”

 

“I see.” Draco sighed heavily and leaned his head against Harry’s shoulder suddenly. “Potter, we can’t deny this. I’m too tired to fight you and the entire school and my desires and my father and the Dark Lord all at the same time.”

 

Harry swallowed nervously, his right hand slowly coming around the other boy’s back. “What can I do?”

 

“Make me forget, something, anything, all of it.” Silver eyes hesitantly rose to meet his own, and Harry’s breath caught at the desperation he saw there. “Kiss me.”

 

TBC


	14. Chapter Tweleve ~ Left Me Speechless

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

 

 **A/N:** Don’t think everything is going to stay all nice and sweet between the boys. This is only a break. Possibly... Enjoy it while it lasts. *evil cackle*

 

** Chapter Twelve – Left Me Speechless **

 

Draco sighed happily as Harry leaned forward and kissed him, hard. It was everything and nothing like he’d dreamt of all these years. The Gryffindor’s lips were soft and pliant – although that was probably because he wasn’t constantly flying out in all kinds of weather with Quidditch being cancelled that year. The hand on his back was large, warm, and powerful, even though it was shaking slightly. When he snuck his tongue out to swipe at those delicious lips, they opened immediately, and he took full advantage to plunder the other boy’s mouth completely.

 

He tasted sweet, like chocolate and mint, with the slightest hint of something darker, something inherently Harry. And Draco found that he loved it. As he began to wonder if his _friend_ would move beyond this, he suddenly questioned where he’d learned to kiss like _that._ And, just as abruptly, he remembered that Harry’d been dating the Weasley bint last year, and it was no doubt thanks to her that he was currently enjoying a rather nice snog from The Boy Who Lived.

 

 _‘I don’t care. He is mine now. I’ll hex her tits off if she even_ thinks _about touching him again,’_ he thought viciously as he ran his hand through surprisingly soft, black locks.  “Har-ry,” he panted when they broke for air, enjoying the delicious feel of the erection pressed against his hip.

 

“Merlin, Draco, you’re going to kill me if you do that again.” Normally tawny skin was flushed in tantalizing pink, and Draco leaned forward to kiss his lean cheeks. “D-draco?”

 

“Hm?” He began running his tongue and teeth down the squared jaw and sinewy neck, determined to have the other teen panting and at his tender mercies, such as they were, very soon.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Snogging you, which I thought was rather obvious,” he said between kisses and licks.

 

“Merlin, that feels…brilliant.”

 

“Glad you think so.” He moved his hand slowly down from Harry’s soft hair, to his shoulders and hard chest, ghosting over tight abs to the very adequate hard on provided for his entertainment. “That day you collapsed in the hall. I took you back to my room, and after you stopped screaming bloody murder, you started giving off the world’s most delicious moans.”

 

“I… I did?” Harry whispered desperately, pushing into Draco’s happy hand.

 

“Mmhmm, and when you woke up, I wanted you then.”

 

“But… you didn’t… say anything…” Harry said before moaning as Draco gave a teasing squeeze to his cock.

 

“Would you have let me or hexed me stupid?” Draco asked archly, placing a rather hard nip on the side of Harry’s neck.

 

“Hex…”

 

“Hence my silence, Golden Boy.”

 

“Draco, please, stop…” The blond stilled his hand and pulled his head back to stare directly into the darker boy’s lust laden eyes. “We… we can’t.”

 

“We can, Harry. I want you. You want me. And, no matter what you say, you can’t deny it. This,” he snarled as he clutched the _very_ erect penis in his hand, “says that you do. Stop pulling away from me.”

 

Harry leaned down and attacked Draco’s lips savagely, sucking, biting and licking anything he could get in contact with. Draco was reduced to whimpers and moans as the hand that wasn’t attached to his own shoved their hips together roughly. “I do want you,” the Gryffindor growled lowly, making the blond shiver with desire. “But not like this.”

 

“Going to try and romance me, Potter?”

 

“I wouldn’t even bother with it, Malfoy. You’re too much of a playboy to fall for your own game.”

 

Draco pulled away, anger lacing every feature of his face. “Who told you that?”

 

“It’s all around the school, Malfoy. Besides, last I heard, you and Parkinson were going to be married and having mini-mini-Death Eaters.”

 

Draco snorted. “Please, Pansy? While I adore the old girl, she’s not my type.”

 

Harry raised one dark eyebrow in curiosity. “And what is your type?”

 

Draco studied the other teen, looking for any traces of smugness or… anything really. All he saw was interest, which made something in his chest clench and forced him to look away momentarily. “Someone with a cock. Since she lacks that specific part of anatomy, it would be difficult to get it up for her, now wouldn’t it?”

 

“So, no little Malfoys running around with pug noses?” There was a hint of mockery in Harry’s tone, but nothing that made it sting.

 

“Dear Merlin, no! My grandfather would be rolling over in his grave if that happened!” He frowned momentarily before looking the other boy directly in the eyes. “I should think that there is more hope of Potters with red hair than that.”

 

“Oh, no way that’s happening… Not unless Charlie’s free,” Harry mused.

 

“Really, so you and the Weaselette aren’t a _thing_ anymore?” Draco tried to shove his jealousy down to controllable levels, if only for that moment, to get a real answer.

 

“Not since the end of last year, when she dumped me for Luna.”

 

“Loony Lovegood? Sweet Merlin, that had to needle even you.” Draco swore under his breath as Harry’s jaw clenched and eyes shut tightly.  He could feel a barrier being built up between them again, and wasn’t sure what it would take to tear it down.

 

“I think we should find Neville,” Harry said coolly, stepping as far from Draco as he could possibly get with the spell joining their hands still. “I’d like to finish my homework, and you have a letter to write, I’m sure.”

 

 _‘That’s a dismissal if I ever heard one,’_ Draco mused sadly. _‘Somehow, I didn’t see something like this happening when I finally got him close enough to kiss.’_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry sighed uncomfortably as he and Draco made their ways silently through the halls. He _knew_ that the other boy’s comments were only to test the waters, stir the pot, feel Harry out; but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It had been difficult, to say the least, to deal with the fact that his first serious relationship had ended so abruptly. Although, now, he knew it was more that his pride had been wounded than his heart by Draco’s comments.

 

And if he was perfectly honest with himself, the thought of Draco kissing Pansy hurt him more than the thought of Ginny fucking Luna. The two girls just seemed to be made for one another. Where Ginny was serious and passionate, Luna was dreamy and serene. The redhead lived up to her family’s reputation of temper and action, while the blonde seemed to pave her way with her calm and unassuming sweetness. He couldn’t picture two people more made for one another, aside from maybe Ron and Hermione, when he let himself think about his two ‘friends’.

 

Now, however, he’d let his ego get in the way of an extremely pleasing time with Draco, one that he’d never thought possible even if he’d dreamed about something similar. And he was seriously regretting it now. “Draco, look, about earlier,” he started while running his free hand through is messy hair. “I overreacted. Sorry about that.”

 

“No, I went too far,” the blond whispered. Harry blinked at the sad tone and stared at the blush that dusted across ivory cheeks. “When it comes to you, I don’t know how to stop pushing your buttons.”

 

“I suppose that makes two of us then,” Harry said with a wry smile. “It’s only fair that you’d question me about Gin when I’m pressing you about Parkinson.”

 

Draco sighed and used his left hand to smooth down the front of his robes absently. “You aren’t too far off about Pansy and I, however. Our parents betrothed us when we were five.” Harry’s jaw clenched uncomfortably and his fist tightened. The blond must have seen both because he was soon facing Harry, a look of unrepentant sorrow on his face. “It’s not like I asked her. And she isn’t much happier about this than I am, especially since she’s in love with Blaise!”

 

“Really, because she’s always given me the impression that she’d love to be the next Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry snarled.

 

“Of course she would! That’s what we’re supposed to show.” Draco blew out a huge puff of breath and looked over Harry’s shoulder. “We’re expected to look happy that the rest of our lives have been dictated for us before we were even born. Sure, it would be easier if we loved each other, but we don’t. And I can’t see her as anything but my best friend. That’s all she is.”

 

Harry’s heart began hammering in his chest tightly as he looked into impassioned grey eyes. He wanted to believe him, desperately wanted it, but he was fairly aware of how the purebloods were raised. He knew that everything that Draco had just said was true, but he still felt helpless and he hated it. “So, what are you going to do?”

 

“I don’t know yet.” Those plump lips that begged to be kissed pulled up into a slight smile. “Ask me again when you win the war.”

 

Closing his eyes, Harry counted to ten so that he wouldn’t kiss the other boy again. “Let’s find Neville and get this spell removed. Otherwise, life is going to get extremely complicated.”

 

Draco snorted and flashed Harry his trademark smirk. “As if it wasn’t already.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The room, if one could call it a room with all the walls in different stages of disrepair, was freezing. The floor was lightly dusted with snow and ice and fat flakes continued to join their companions, much to the chagrin and unhappiness of the room’s occupants. Roughly twenty figures were interspersed in the dilapidated space, huddled in groups of three or four to keep warm. A lone black figure stood in the middle of the others, body tall and straight, as if the cold couldn’t touch him.

 

 _“Tell me how NONE_ _of you imbeciles have managed to find information about what Dumbledore is doing?”_ the center figure bellowed as the others shivered – from fear or cold, it was difficult to tell.

 

 _“M-master,”_ a roundish man said, creeping up to the center on his knees. _“Th-there is no…”_

 

 _“No more excuses, Wormtail!”_ A deathly pale hand retrieved a slim wand from his black robes and pointed it at the trembling man at his feet. _“Crucio!”_

 

Screams, high and thin, cut through the air, followed by the sweet giggles of a female voice. Wormtail flopped and screamed until he was hoarse, and then his screams turned into pitiful whimpers and sobs. Still, the Dark Lord continued the Unforgivable. _“I will allow NO MORE excuses.”_ With an abrupt motion, the curse was cut off, and the pathetic Animagus fell silent. _“My patience is running out! From the young Malfoy’s letters, it is evident that that bumbling old fool knows something is going on. FIND OUT WHO HE IS SPEAKING TO!”_ His robe’s hood fell, showing more of the white, smooth skin and blood red eyes, twisted in fury. _“LUCIUS! BELLA!”_

 

Two figures glided to a stop and knelt before Voldemort, kissing the hem of his robes before looking up with complete adoration and infinite patience for his next words. _“Lucius, you will write to young Draco and find out what he knows. It has been two weeks and nothing new has come from his corner aside from Potter’s actions. While they are amusing, they are unhelpful. Make sure that he understands that I want to know what Dumbledore is doing.”_

_“As you will it, My Lord,”_ the taller of the two kneeling figures said. As he looked up at his master, his hood slid back to reveal a shock of white-blond hair.

 

 _“Bella, my sweet,”_ Voldemort crooned, running a thin finger against his other follower’s upturned face. _“You must stop your torture of our dearest Narcissa. She is too fragile right now, and I require her to at least give birth to another beautiful child. I have, however, uncovered a new target for your frustrations, my dear.”_

_“Yes, My Lord,”_ she simpered, leaning her face into the hand that now stroked her long dark hair.

 

 _“Rudolphus. Rastaban.”_ Two men joined Lucius and Bellatrix in the middle, throwing looks of disgust at the still whimpering form of Wormtail who laid mere feet away. _“You two will retrieve the Tonks family, every soul, and bring them here.”_

_“Yes, My Lord,”_ the Lestrange brothers said at the same time. Bellatrix wiggled with pleasure at the sound of her false sister’s family name.

 

A cruel, vicious smile crossed the snake-like face before he spoke again. _“Macnair, you are next,”_ he crooned before casting the _Cruciatus_ curse again, and ear-shattering screams pierced the night sky once again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry bolted up from his bed, a scream on his lips and blood running down his face. Without thinking, he struggled out of his covers, tripping and hitting his head on the nightstand. Ignoring the pain, he searched for his glasses and wand, his mind a jumbled mess but knowing he had to see the Headmaster right away. If he wasted even a single second, it could cost Tonks and her parents their lives. While he dashed through the Gryffindor common room to the portrait hole, another thought occurred to him. Draco’s mother was still alive.

 

TBC


	15. Chapter Thirteen ~ Scare Me to Death

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

 

** Chapter Thirteen – Scare Me to Death **

****

“She’s alive, Draco,” Harry yelled, forcing the blond to look up from his breakfast with a confused look on his face. “She’s alive!”

 

“Who, Harry?”

 

“Your mother, she’s still alive.” Draco could literally feel himself pale and his stomach heaved rebelliously.

 

“What?” he asked carefully. “How?”

 

The Gryffindor looked around the Great Hall and blushed as the eyes of the other students settled on the two of them, and it appeared that some of the Slytherins were trying to listen in on their conversation. _‘To take back to their Master, no doubt,’_ Draco thought spitefully before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him out to the Entrance Hall.

 

“How do you know that, Harry?” he asked again, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“I… uh… had a vision last night,” the black -boy said, blushing and trying to tug his hand free from Draco’s grip. The blond let him go with only a little hesitance and then processed what he’d just heard.

 

“Did you… see her?”

 

“No,” Harry said, sounding guilty. “Voldemort,” Draco shivered at the casual usage of that monster’s name, but said nothing, “he only told Bella that she had to stop torturing her.”

 

Draco gave a shaky sigh before his knees gave out and he crashed to the stone floor in a shivering heap. “She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.” He repeated the sentence over and over until a warm hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up into worried, but happy, green eyes and felt the desire to cry. “She’s really alive?”

 

“Yes,” was the reply he got before Harry knelt down beside him. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” he answered, hysteria creeping up on him slowly. “Ask me again later.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ginny Weasley felt her hand squeezed by her long-time friend, neighbor, and – most importantly – girlfriend, Luna Lovegood, as they sat at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast. They had just watched as her ex-boyfriend dragged his longtime rival from the Great Hall, whispering excitedly. “What do you think that’s about, Luna?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the open doors where the two boys disappeared.

 

“Hm, it is curious, but, Ginny, perhaps Harry discovered a Wrackspurt?” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone.

 

“I don’t think so, Lovegood,” Terry Boot said, his voice almost as sneering as Draco Malfoy’s. “I bet it has to do with the mutual appreciation society they’ve set up.”

 

“Their what?” Ginny asked, turning to the older boy.

 

“You mean you didn’t hear, Weasley? Malfoy and Potter are almost always together now. Longbottom is their little tag-a-long.” He sneered before staring at both girls again. “I guess you dumping him turned him gay too.”

 

“Terry, that’s a very stupid thing to say,” Luna said sharply, before turning her attention back to Ginny with a secretive smile. “It is nice to see the two of them getting along so well, however. Harry deserves an easier year, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah, he does,” the redhead answered automatically, mind spinning out of control as she tried to process everything. “Why did it take us so long to notice this?”

 

“Oh, I noticed it when Malfoy returned, but I figured you had as well,” her girlfriend replied, squeezing her hand again. A warm feeling traveled up Ginny’s spine and made her smile before she turned and kissed the blond e on her cheek.

 

“Don’t ever change, Luna.”

 

“But everything changes, Ginny. Well, everything but Wrackspurts.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Hermione walked with the other seventh years to the Potions lesson, her mind a million miles away – back to the scene with Harry and Malfoy, to be exact. _‘When did they become so close that he runs to him before joining the rest of us?’_ she asked herself. _‘What changed this year?’_

 

“Can you believe that scene they caused?” Ron asked quietly, dragging his girlfriend’s attention back to where they were going.

 

“Hm?” she murmured. “Oh, you mean Harry and Malfoy? Yes, I was just thinking about that.”

 

“Yeah, what the hell was that about?” he demanded.

 

“You know as much as I do, Ronald.”

 

“It’s just too weird! Harry has changed too much!”

 

“Well, something must have made him see some good in Malfoy.”

 

“Or You Know Who has finally taken over his mind, and Malfoy’s following Harry’s directions in the school.”

 

“What _are_ you talking about?” she nearly screeched. “Have you lost your mind?” Looking up, she could see the two boys in question, whispering by the Potions door, Neville with them as well. “I don’t know what’s happening, any more than you do, but I’d rather not jump to conclusions.”

 

“But, Hermione, it’s just too much!” She took the time to actually look at Ron, and noticed that his face was pale, except for two bright spots of red, which indicated that he was about two seconds from blowing what cool he was keeping. “Harry and Malfoy have _never_ been friends!”

 

“Maybe if you just _asked_ Harry what was going on, you’d be less inclined to be upset. Maybe then he’d actually confide in us again.”

 

“And have _you_ asked him? He’s talking to you less too!” Hermione was about to say something very ugly to Ron when Professor Slughorn appeared, opening the door to the classroom. So, instead of humiliating her boyfriend, like he deserved, she pushed past him and sat down at the open seat next to Neville, who was sitting in front of Harry and Malfoy.

 

“Hey, Hermione,” Neville whispered, his tone cautious. He looked at the table behind him before proceeding. “What’s going on?”

 

“Ronald is being an idiot,” she said softly, “and I was wondering if you’d like to be my partner today.”

 

“I-I don’t mind,” he answered, giving her a small smile.

 

“And, Harry, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for not talking to you earlier about what’s happening this year.” She gave her friend a weak up-turn of her lips. “I know that it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but if you’d like help with your homework later, I would love to be of assistance.”

 

“Thanks… Hermione…” Harry answered, a questioning look on his face, before shooting a look at the blond on his left. “Can Draco come too?”

 

“O-of course,” she answered, looking at the Slytherin herself, who appeared to be carved from unfeeling granite. “If he wants…”

 

Just then, Slughorn called the class’s attention. “Today, we’re going to be brewing Veritaserum. This particular potion will be showing up on your N.E.W.T.s, so I expect you all to put great effort into making it correctly. Now, if you’ll turn to page 375, we can begin.”

 

Before the students could get started, however, the door opened, reveling Professor Dumbledore standing at the threshold. “Sorry to disturb you, Horace, but I require Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley immediately.”

 

“No, no problem at all, Albus,” the round man said jovially. “Go ahead, you lot. You can make up the first part tonight after the rest of your classes.”

 

“What’s this about?” Hermione asked under her breath as she gathered her things.

 

“Dunno, but it looks like we’re about to find out, doesn’t it?” Harry responded, shoving his possessions into his bag and heading to where the Headmaster awaited them. The other four followed - all deathly quiet, and Malfoy extremely pale.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dumbledore looked at the group assembled in his office and sighed. They all appeared distant and on edge. Harry and Draco sat to one side, with Neville and Hermione taking the middle seats, leaving Ron to sit by himself at the other end. None of them were looking at the others, but a brief look at Harry and Draco let him catch a glimpse of the two boys brushing their hands against each other’s in an attempt to reassure the other. The sight was enough to let the old wizard know that his decision to allow Draco’s return was the right one. _‘Hopefully, they will be good for one another.’_

 

“Before we begin, let me reassure you that none of you are in trouble,” the Headmaster said, trying to sound pleased, but giving that up as none of the teens relaxed. “There was an attack on a few fronts last night. Tonks and her family were assaulted last night by the Lestrange brothers. However, she is fine. A few bumps and bruises, but nothing that she could not get on her own, Madam Pomfrey has assured me.” Ron, Hermione and Harry smiled briefly, but the expression was short-lived on their faces. “However, Fenrir Greyback, Avery and Thicknese attacked the Records Department of the Ministry last night. It appears that Percy Weasley was on duty last night.”

 

Ron paled to the color of whey and the other Gryffindors sat up straighter. “He is alive, and since it was not the full moon, we are sure that he will not contact the lycanthropy disease. However, the Healers at St. Mungo’s are not sure of what side effects he will suffer.”

 

“Does… does Ginny know yet?” Ron asked in a tiny and quiet voice.

 

“Not yet,” Dumbledore answered calmly. “I will alert Miss Weasley after I release you all.” He turned his attention to Hermione with a sad look on his face. “The Death Eaters were after the records of a particular Muggle-born witch.” The girl began shaking, and Ron and Harry dashed to embrace her before she fainted. “My dear, I’m sorry to tell you that your father was mortally wounded and your mother was attacked as well, but she is in St. Mungo’s as well. The Healers assure me that she will recover, but it will be a long and arduous process.”

 

“Mum… is alive,” Hermione squeaked out in between tears that streaked her face.

 

“Yes, my dear, she is, and she should wake up in a few days.”

 

“Was she bitten by Greyback?” Harry asked, making the others stiffen momentarily.

 

“No, fortunately, she was not.”

 

“Why is _he_ here?” Ron asked caustically, pointing at Draco, who had yet to move or speak.

 

“Because I asked him to come, Mr. Weasley,” the old wizard said sternly, fixing the redhead with piercing blue eyes. “Mr. Longbottom, your grandmother was called into help with the Tonks family, and is in the infirmary. You may visit her when we are done here.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Neville replied quietly, but he remained still and pale. “And my uncle, do you know if anything happened to him?”

 

“Augusta assures me that your uncle is as fine as he can be. Don’t worry yourself on that account.” It was only then that the brown-haired boy relaxed.  “Mr. Malfoy,” the blond nodded stiffly, face blank, “I have heard from a source independent of Mr. Potter that your mother is indeed alive. She is, however, very weak and requires much care to get her strength back.”

 

“And is there word on… her other situation, sir?” Draco asked softly.

 

“There are no complications, I’ve been told, from her treatment, but only time will tell if that is completely true.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Dumbledore nodded and turned his attention to the Gryffindor students. “Mr. Weasley, please escort Miss Granger to Madam Pomfrey and have her looked over immediately. Mr. Longbottom, you will accompany them and visit with your grandmother.” He waited until the others had left, with dirty looks from Ron over at the quiet Slytherin, before he began again. “Mr. Malfoy, when you returned, I explained that I would be examining your personal correspondence to make sure that everything was safe, not only for you but for the rest of the school, did I not?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the blond said automatically before his head snapped up. “Did you… did you keep any letters from my mother?”

 

“No, my boy, if Narcissa had sent you letters, I would have immediately relayed them to you once they were checked for curses or poisons, just like your other mail,” the Headmaster answered sadly. “The reason I bring our previous conversation up is because you have had a letter from Miss Parkinson. However, it was coated with a flesh-eating poison.” He waved his wand and a piece of parchment appeared in mid-air. “I took the liberty of copying it for you, nonetheless.”

 

Harry leaned over Draco’s shoulder to read the letter with the other boy. What it said comforted them little.

 

_‘December 3rd, 1997_

_Beauxbatons Academy, France_

_Dearest Draco,_

_I have dreadful news, my darling. A few days ago, Professor Snape showed up out of nowhere. Imagine our surprise to see someone from home - and without any proper notice as well! Just as I was about to say something about his impertinence for dragging all of us – Daphne, Astoria, Blaise, Tracey and myself – out of our classes, our Former Head of House began speaking to us._

_Blaise’s mother was captured trying to escape to Liberia, wherever that is, by Death Eaters. And the Greengrasses were murdered! Daphne and Astoria were distraught, understandably, and Professor Snape explained that he had permission to take them home to deal with the situation. Evidently there is some uncle on their father’s side that is going to take them in, or some such rubbish. As far as Blaise goes, he believes his mother is dead, poor thing, and is inconsolable. Tracey and I are quite at a lost at what to do._

_Blaise keeps asking where you are, and Snape refuses to answer any more than my parents. They will only tell me that you are where you can do the most good. Are you at Durmstrang? At home? Or, and I loathe to think this, back at Hogwarts with the goody-goodies? Wherever you are, I hope that you are safe and that this letter reaches you without trouble._

_All my love,_

_Pansy’_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Harry fixed Draco with a piercing look, trying to figure out what his reaction was, but the blond was too schooled in keeping his features blank as he thought. Finally, Draco spoke, and it wasn’t exactly what Harry had been hoping to hear, but it was intelligent.

 

“And you think that Pansy suspects something and she was the one to coat the letter with the poison?” Draco asked Dumbledore.

 

“That is what Professor Flitwick believes, but Miss Parkinson is not quite clever enough to do something like this.”

 

“Professor Snape then,” Harry said, looking up at the Headmaster, not sure if he wanted a yes or no answer.

 

“I think not, Harry. I believe that the poison was coated on the envelope of the letter by Mr. Zabini.”

 

“Oh, of course,” Draco said in a small voice. “Pansy and I were the only ones he told about his mother’s family in Liberia. He knows that I was the only one who could have told the Dark Lord about that escape route…”

 

Harry blinked and then looked down at the other boy again. “Why would you do that, Draco?”

 

“Because, Harry, I’m a spy. If I don’t give them some information, I die,” Draco sneered. The look didn’t quite mesh with the paleness of his cheeks or the haunted look in his eyes.

 

“As unfortunate as this situation is, I believe that you should _not_ respond to the letter,” Dumbledore said, making both boys look at him. “Let him think that he has gotten one on you.”

 

“And what’s this about the Greengrasses? I don’t really remember either of them,” Harry said.

 

“Daphne is Pansy’s best friend, Harry, and her sister, Astoria, would be a fifth year,” Draco answered miserably. “It’s not really surprising that you didn’t know her.”

 

“It is believed that the Greengrasses assisted Mrs. Zabini’s escape to Liberia, and that is why they were targeted,” the Headmaster replied. “It seems all three Lestranges were complacent in their murder.”

 

“Then death was a mercy, considering what Bellatrix is capable of,” Harry said slowly, thinking of seeing Neville’s parents in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s.

 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, as if he was thinking of Alice and Frank Longbottom as well. “My boys, please take as much time as you need to gather your thoughts. Harry, you may visit Tonks in the Infirmary. Andromeda is most anxious to meet you, as well as Ted.”

 

“Andromeda? My mother’s sister is here?” Draco asked.

 

“Yes, she was attacked as well, and we try not to send Order members to St. Mungo’s unless it can be helped. Their injuries cannot be explained very well to the Aurors, and the Minister is quite against us. Besides, as I am sure you are aware of, Madam Pomfrey is an extremely capable mediwitch.”

 

“Scrimgeour is an idiot, but at least he’s better than Fudge,” Harry snarled, remembering his ‘trial’ before fifth year. He looked down to see the blond was quite stiff and withdrawn. “Draco, do you want to come down and meet the Tonks family?”

 

TBC


	16. Chapter Fourteen ~ I'm Not Brave

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash

 **Author’s Notes:** A HUGE number of thanks to Sevfan and Jamie for their help. I shall ply you both with chocolate for further assistance. Luvre!

 

** Chapter Fourteen - I'm Not Brave **

****

Draco followed behind Harry, feeling lost and dazed as he thought through what occurred down in the Headmaster’s office. Blaise, who was his friend, had tried to kill him through Pansy, and there was no doubt in his mind that she’d helped him. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that his only friend as of now was Harry, and that thought scared him. What was he going to do if something happened to him?

 

 _‘Are you so weak that you need someone to keep you up? Are you not a Malfoy? Get a hold of yourself, boy,’_ his inner voice, which sounded suspiciously like Lucius, snarled. _‘You don’t need anyone as long as you are alive!’_ Feeling the effect of those words, Draco stood up as straight as he could and schooled his features into a mask of calm superiority before walking through the doors of the infirmary.

 

As soon as he entered, he wished he’d gone back to class. In a bed, near the door, was Granger, with Weasel standing at her elbow, hovering uselessly. In the bed next to Granger’s was a plain man that Draco had never seen before, who was deeply unconscious. That was just as well, considering what had happened to his body. There were slash marks that oozed black fluid on his face, hands, arms and chest, his breathing was shallow and labored, there were burn marks that seemed to cover the areas that weren’t cut open, and every once in a while, his arms and legs would shake – signs of prolonged exposure to the _Cruciatus_.

 

“Who is that?” Harry asked the two Gryffindors quietly. The Weasel shrugged, but Granger looked over at the unfortunate man before up at Harry.

 

“Madam Pomfrey told me he’s a member of the Order, but it’s no one we know,” she answered mechanically. “Apparently, he’s the one who saved Tonks from Rabastan’s wand.”

 

Harry grimaced, and Draco couldn’t blame him. From the looks of the poor man, he’d gotten off rather light, especially if his aunt Bella had been there. He’d learned quickly that outright torture was much more preferable to Bellatrix’s punishments. “Where’re Tonks and her parents?”

 

“Back behind the curtain,” Weasley said, gesturing stiffly before leaning over his girlfriend and whispering something in her ear that made her glare at him darkly. “What?” he asked, oblivious to whatever had provoked her anger. “What did I say, ‘Mione?”

 

“Nothing, Ronald,” she sighed. “Please leave me alone.”

 

Harry and Granger shared a knowing look, one that Draco had seen pass between them numerous times over the years and had to hold back a smirk. That look never meant anything good for Weasel. However, his amusement was short-lived when Harry took one of his hands and headed for the curtain.

 

“Wotcher, Harry,” a bright, cheery female voice called, and Draco looked up to see a woman with blue hair, yellow eyes and a cute button nose smiling at his ‘friend’. “Um, I don’t mean this as anything bad, but did you know you have a Malfoy behind you?”

 

Harry, to Draco’s astonishment, blushed and laughed uncomfortably. “Heya, Tonks, um, yeah, I know that Draco’s here. I asked him to come.”

 

“Why?” another female – this one tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and poised – asked. Her face was familiar, but the voice was wrong to his memory. It was saner, more refined, and almost pleasant. _‘This must be my aunt Andromeda. Mother never said that she looked almost identical to aunt Bella,’_ Draco thought, making sure to keep constant eye contact with Andromeda Black-Tonks.

 

“Because he’s my friend, and I thought he’d like to meet members of his family that are actually sane for a change,” Harry replied stiffly.

 

“Hold on, Harry. No need to get your knickers in a twist,” the room’s final occupant, a male who could only be Ted Tonks, the reason his aunt was disowned in the first place, said. “My ‘Dromie didn’t mean no harm to Mr. Malfoy, but you know things is tense between our families.”

 

“Ted!” Andromeda gasped. “Please show some manners. The last thing I need is for word to get back to Lucius and Narcissa that I defiled their precious heir.” She shot a nasty look at Draco, but all he did was shrug.

 

“Aunt, you can say whatever you like about Lucius Malfoy,” he drawled, feeling more comfortable now that he had a feel for the people he was meeting. “As I happen to think he’s a worthless excuse for a husband and father, nothing you say will offend me or make its way back to him through me.”

 

The Tonks family looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, and Harry flashed him a breathtaking smile. However, it was his cousin’s peals of laughter that caught his attention. “Oh, oh, Cousin, that is absolutely wonderful. We’ll have to have a sit down, you and me, and talk about what a bastard Old Lucius is,” she said between guffaws.

 

“Nymphadora, really, you’re as bad as your father,” Andromeda said fondly, her smile making her seem at least ten years younger and accentuating her high cheekbones – which were definitely like those of Narcissa.

 

“So, what happened, Tonks?” Harry asked as one of his hands brushed against Draco’s hip. The Slytherin sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out, hoping that no one else noticed his reaction and very grateful for the fact that he’d worn his looser robes that morning.

 

“Well, thanks to you, backup arrived in time when the Lestrange brothers and my dear aunt Bellatrix came to call, at two o’clock in the morning, mind you. Mum dealt with her sister while I was introduced to my uncle through marriage rather rudely.”

 

“I’m sorry to say that his manners don’t improve upon intimacy, Cousin,” Draco added.

 

“I kinda figured he was that kinda bloke, but one can hope, right?” Tonks winked, and it was then that he noticed her eyes had turned the most stunning shade of green – almost like Harry’s. “Well, Dad was dealing with Rodolphus, until Rabastan nearly took my head off. Next thing I know, Dad is fighting both of them with help from poor Phil over there, I’m flat on my arse, and Mum is smashing Bellatrix’s head through the glass coffee table.” Her grin widened as she looked at her mother. “Nice show, that. You really should perform an encore sometime.”

 

“I’m sure your aunt will be willing to oblige you, whenever her master lets her out of her gilded cage again,” Andromeda sneered. Oh, yes, this woman was _definitely_ his mother’s sister. But the gleam in her dark eyes was just too much like Bellatrix’s and it made his skin crawl. Soon, it was all he could do to back away slowly, trying not to draw attention to him. There was no need to embarrass himself in front of these strangers.

 

He’d made it out into the hallway before he began hyperventilating. The stress was just too much. He was ready to go back to bed. A part of him wished that he hadn’t woken up that morning. And he _couldn’t_ control his breathing. He felt like he was about to suffocate. He began clawing at his throat, trying to find a way to get air into his screaming lungs and failing miserably.

 

 _‘You’re so pathetic, Draco,’_ his inner-Lucius voice spat. _‘Look at you! You’re a failure. You can’t even keep your precious Potter contented enough to do more than kiss you the one time. Did you really think you could keep the half-blood interested? Did you? Don’t make me laugh.’_

 

He whimpered with the last of his breath, before his vision began to swim and then blacken. He couldn’t hear Harry calling his name and then shouting for help. He didn’t see the panic in those beautiful green eyes he dreamed about nightly before he passed out.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Harry had noticed Draco sneaking off into the hall, but he figured that the blond needed time to absorb everything that had happened that morning by himself for a few minutes. However, when Draco failed to return after five minutes, Harry grew concerned and excused himself to find his friend. What he found was an obviously panicking Draco, clawing viciously at his throat, as if he couldn’t breathe, with an alarmingly blue face. “Draco!”

 

The blond didn’t look in his direction and swayed, as if his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore. Keeping his cool, Harry dashed forward to catch the Slytherin. “Draco, calm down, breathe, please. Don’t do this.” He tried to snatch at the blond’s hands, but the damage was already done. Long, thin red lines of blood were decorating that pale throat he longed to kiss again. “SOMEONE HELP!”

 

Before anyone arrived, Draco had passed out, his chest not rising, making his pale face even more discolored. “No, come on, wake up, Draco. HELP!”

 

Heavily pounding feet sounded behind him, making Harry look up to see Madam Pomfrey and Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there. The mediwitch took one look at the unconscious boy in his arms, shoved Harry out of the way and began casting a series of spells that left the Gryffindor stunned at their succession.  “Is he alright?” he asked quietly.

 

“It appears that Mr. Malfoy suffered a panic attack,” Pomfrey answered. “He should wake up in a few minutes, but I’d like to move him into the infirmary.” She narrowed her eyes before sighing. “I was seriously hoping that he could avoid any more time in any of the beds, but it can’t be helped now.” She cast a quick _Mobilicorpus_ and levitated the blond back into her domain.

 

“What happened out here, Harry?” Kingsley asked in his deep voice. Harry looked up at the black man, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

 

“I’m not sure. We were inside, visiting Tonks and her parents. He left – I assumed that he needed some alone time – but when he didn’t come back, I got worried.” Harry shook his head, trying to get the memory of Draco’s face out of his brain. “He was out here, clawing at his neck, like he couldn’t breathe. Then, he swayed. I caught him before he hit the ground, but he’d passed out by then and wasn’t breathing. That’s when I called for help.”

 

“Hm,” the Auror said, his dark eyes holding a look that Harry didn’t quite understand. “Why was he here in the first place?”

 

Then it dawned on Harry. The Order didn’t know. Dumbledore hadn’t told them about Draco. And Shacklebolt was suspicious of Lucius Malfoy’s son being anywhere near him. Suddenly, Harry narrowed his green eyes at the older man and stood up, making sure to keep perfect eye contact at all times. “He was here, visiting Tonks with me, Kingsley.”

 

“And since when are you and Draco Malfoy friends?”

 

“Since the beginning of the school year,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Is there a point to this?”

 

“Why, when all of his other Housemates didn’t return, did he?”

 

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Dumbledore. I’m afraid that I can’t tell you that.” The Auror fixed him with a penetrating glare before he nodded.

 

“I intend to do that, but watch your back, Harry. It wouldn’t do to have you murdered before you’re needed.” And then, he left.

 

“What the fuck…” Harry watched the man disappear, a prickling of sweat slowly making its way down his back, leaving a patch of cool skin in its wake. Before he could think of anything else, Ron’s shout drew his attention back to the infirmary, and the sight of Draco as he fainted faded into the background.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Voices woke him up. They were familiar, but they were angry. _‘Please don’t let Father get me,’_ he thought quietly, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even so as not to draw any attention to himself. _‘I don’t know what I did, but it’s never good when Father is upset.’_ One voice said something sharply, but it was too high to belong to his father, so Draco calmed his racing thoughts and allowed himself to actually hear what was being said.

 

“It’s an act, Harry! There’s no way that Malfoy would do anything but turn you over to V-v-You Know Who once your guard is down!” Ah, that was the Weasel.

 

“Oh, do shut up, Ron,” a female voice, probably that of Granger if he had the inflection down correctly in his muddled brain. “Perhaps you should trust Harry enough to know what he’s doing, hm?”

 

“You’re a fine one to talk! You’ve been second guessing him since first year!”

                                                                                              

“Shut up, both of you,” a third voice, which could only belong to Harry, said calmly. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is the infirmary, and there are people resting here. Why don’t you just go away, Ron?”

 

“Fine, but when you’re dead, don’t come crying to me!” Heavy footsteps and a slammed door marked the exit of one Ronald Weasley.

 

“I honestly wonder what I see in him,” Granger said sadly. “Sometimes.”

 

“Temporary insanity,” Draco whispered, slowly opening his eyes to a hazy, darkened ceiling. His remark was met with a tittering giggle and a sharp bark of a laugh that sounded remotely hysterical.

 

“Hey, you’re awake,” Harry said, looking down at Draco with his beautiful green eyes. “You scared me out there.”

 

“What happened?” he asked, noticing that he felt no pain except when he tried to talk or breathe too deeply.

 

“Madam Pomfrey told us that you had a panic attack,” Granger answered in a kind, soft voice. He looked over and noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. Then, he remembered the horrible meeting in the Headmaster’s office that morning.

 

“How… how long was I…?” He couldn’t continue. He wouldn’t allow himself to finish that sentence. It was weak, and Malfoys were _not_ weak.

 

“A few hours,” Harry replied, handing Draco a glass of water. “That should help you.” Draco nodded and drank the entire glass down, feeling instantly better.

 

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, looking over the two Gryffindors carefully. “Where is Neville?”

 

“Neville?” Granger asked hesitantly. “Well, his Gran ordered him back to class and he said he’d try to take enough notes so that you would have them when you return tomorrow.” Draco smiled softly before turning to Harry.

 

“What else, Harry?”

 

“The Greengrass girls, they’ve been kidnapped by Death Eaters,” the black-haired boy said uncomfortably. “Their uncle confirmed that Snape returned them to him two days ago, but while he was meeting with the solicitor about the funerals, they were taken.”

 

“What about… Pansy and Blaise?” He couldn’t help the fact that he sounded upset, could he? It was only reasonable when your friends from childhood tried to kill you, wasn’t it?

 

“Madame Maxine said that Parkinson and Zabini had mysteriously disappeared by the time she went to find them,” Harry said calmly, but the hand that was gripping Draco’s tightened and his right eye twitched for a second. “She said that the French Ministry has been alerted and is willing to help apprehend them, but there’s been no word from Durmstrang or the Polish Ministry.”

 

“I doubt they’ll help,” Draco said cynically. “Durmstrang has been a great recruiting ground for Dark Lords for a few centuries now and the Polish Ministry likes to think they have no idea what happens at the school.”

 

“Malfoy,” Granger butted in carefully, “what was that about your mum? Is she in trouble?”

 

The blond looked at the girl for a long moment before looking at Harry, who shrugged and gave him a small smile. Draco sighed as he thought things over. _‘I don’t know if I trust her, but Harry seems to believe that it’s my decision to tell her, and I guess it is. But…’_

 

“My mother is a prisoner in one of our estates. My father and aunt have been taking turns torturing her since the summer to keep me in line.”

 

The girl gasped; her face was a perfect mixture of outrage and shock. “That’s terrible!”

 

Draco only shrugged and turned his face to the side. “I’m sorry about your father.”

 

“Thank you, Malfoy,” she replied softly before sniffling loudly. “I’ll… I’ll leave you be now, Harry. If… If I see Mrs. Weasley, what do you want me to say?”

 

“Tell her… that I’m sorry Percy was hurt and that…” Harry stopped, seeming at a loss for words. “That I’ll contact her later.”

 

“Of course,” Granger answered with a small smile before leaving them alone.

 

But neither said a word, and the silence soon felt deafening. Draco was determined to keep his cool and plan for every eventuality, but the touch of the other boy’s hand still grasping his own made his head a little fuzzy. Besides, he needed more information. He was sitting here, practically blind, while Harry had nearly all the data and had given up very little.

 

“I suppose that now would be a good time that we had a real talk,” Harry said, pulling Draco from his thoughts. He looked over to see an odd, blank look on the Gryffindor’s face.

 

“About which problem?” Draco asked calmly, hoping that his voice didn’t betray his swirling thoughts.

 

“I think you know which one I’m talking about, Draco.”

 

TBC


	17. Chapter Fifteen ~ All I Fear

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

 

** Chapter Fifteen – All I Fear **

****

Harry watched as Draco blinked and then squirmed. _‘Yes, he knows, but he wants to play stupid so that he can always back out later, I believe,’_ he thought, allowing a tiny smile to grace his lips. “We haven’t talked about it since that day, and I’m tired of tip-toeing around it now.”

 

“Has-”

 

“No, Neville hasn’t said anything, but he really doesn’t need to at this point,” Harry said with a sigh. “I know that you said to ask you again later. Well, it’s later.”

 

Draco folded his arms against his thin chest and breathed deeply. “I’ve told you, Harry, that I have no desire to marry Pansy. Even less now that she’s tried to kill me.”

 

“And why would she do that?”

 

“Because of Blaise… I thought that much was obvious. I told my father of the possibility of Blaise’s mother sneaking away to Northern Africa to get away from his master. Lucius probably passed that information along. Blaise knows that he only told Pansy and me. And since Pansy is so tightly wound around his finger, it leaves me to be the one who told.”

 

“But I thought that that was all a part of the Slytherin power plays?”

 

“What do you know of them?” Draco’s grey eyes were flashing dangerously.

 

“Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t suit you.” Harry rolled his eyes as Draco glared at him. “I _have_ learned a few things over the years, dealing with you and your housemates; not to mention Snape.”

 

“I suppose,” the blond huffed. “And, normally, it would be part of being in Slytherin, but Blaise isn’t exactly the epitome of Salazar’s House.”

 

“No, you are,” Harry joked. His amusement died with the look of annoyance on Draco’s face. “Look, Draco, I know what you said and some of what you’ve done, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.”

 

“Then what _are_ you talking about, Harry? Because, I’m a little confused as to what purpose this serves when there’s so much else going on around us.”

 

“I know that!” Harry ran both hands through his hair harshly. “Draco, this _thing_ between us… We can’t just ignore it. When I saw you in the hall,” he swallowed a sob that was desperately trying to claw its way out, “when I saw you there, I couldn’t think. I panicked. You were blue and scratching at yourself and you weren’t breathing. And I couldn’t do anything.”

 

Draco blushed and turned his head to the side, but Harry reached over and forced him to look him in the face. “I was terrified. Do you know what that feels like?”

 

“Of course, Potter,” Draco snapped, trying to pull his face from Harry’s fingers. “I only spent the entire summer with the Dark Lord and my crazy aunt in the same house!”

 

Harry nodded before closing his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve met your aunt. I _hate_ her.”

 

“Yes, well, you’ll be happy to know that she and my uncle Rodolphus finally managed to procreate,” the blond sneered.

 

“Fuck, why didn’t you say anything before now?”

 

“Because I told Dumbledore as soon as I found out.” Draco blew out a breath and looked at Harry steadily. “I know what you’re talking about, Harry, but I fail to see how it plays a part in anything we’re dealing with right now.”

 

“We can’t keep ignoring this, Draco.” Harry shook his head, his eyes snapping back up to lock with Draco’s grey irises. “I really don’t want to, either. I see you every damn day and all I can think about is that bloody kiss!”

 

“It was rather good,” Draco whispered as his cheeks flushed. “You should have let me finish it.”

 

“And then what? What would have happened after that? We’d still be acting as if nothing was going on between us and that is _not_ what I want anymore.” Harry seized Draco’s hand, bringing it to his lips and covering the soft skin with delicate kisses. He smiled as he heard the other boy’s breathing hitch. “Are you going to tell me that you’ll be happy staying like this?” His lips stretched into an obscene grin as Draco shook his head breathlessly. “Then help me fix it.”

 

“What do you _want_ , Potter?”

 

“You,” Harry growled before diving in for another kiss, making up his mind that there was too much talking going on for his taste.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lucius sneered as he watched Rabastan and Rodolphus huddle and jump at every sound that occurred. Of course, part of him understood why they were so… twitchy. The Dark Lord _had_ let Lucius be the one to administer their punishments for failing to take down the Tonks family. And Rodolphus _had_ taken twice as much as Rabastan since Bella was unable to accept her own because of her delicate situation.

 

That didn’t mean that Lucius _actually_ sympathized with them. Of course not. Had they sympathized with him after he’d been arrested during that mess at the Department of Mysteries? Why, no, they hadn’t. So, he extended no such offers of _camaraderie._ That simply wasn’t the Death Eater way. Let some silly Hufflepuff cry and agonize over the two hours of _Cruciatus_ curses they’d lived through. He was Slytherin and had not-so-secretly enjoyed it.

 

However, he was displeased in other areas. His _darling_ wife had requested his presence, and for some reason, Severus had told her that he would have Lucius come to her. If not for the fact that the woman was carrying his unborn child, one that could replace that incompetent brat she’d birthed nearly eighteen years ago, he’d have let Bellatrix kill her back in November. However, she was, and now he was forced to put up with her for some time yet.

 

Sneering, Lucius stopped in front of the door to Narcissa’s room and listened. Faint moans of discomfort carried through the rich wood and Lucius had a brief thought that perhaps he would lose this child before he’d had the chance to even secure its future away from Draco. Squaring his shoulders, Lucius pushed the heavy doors open and stormed into Narcissa’s bedchamber. As soon as he’d entered, he wished he hadn’t.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Hermione shuffled slowly into St. Mungo’s with the Weasley family, her heart pounding erratically. In one of these rooms was her mum, but not her dad. She sniffled and blinked suddenly itchy eyes, unsure of what she was doing, where she was going. Her knees gave out and before she could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around her waist.

 

“Hold on, ‘Mione,” Ron said, and she relaxed for a moment before gathering her wits and shoving him away.

 

“Thank you, Ron, but I’m fine now,” she said primly, running a hand through her frizzy hair.

 

“Bollocks,” he shouted as an angry flush stole over his face, leaving it the same color as his flaming hair. “You nearly fainted, and since you’re not that kind of girl, it’s got to be serious. Besides, no one expects you to be strong at a time like this!”

 

She took a moment to stare into the blue eyes that she loved so much and sighed. He’d changed. Ron, Harry and she had been close since that moment in first year when Professor Quirrell let a mountain troll into Hogwarts during the Halloween feast – if one discounted that moment in fourth year when Ron had been an idiot over Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet of Fire. But she felt that this change was just something that couldn’t be repaired as easily as Ron watching Harry fight a dragon. No, this time, Harry was determined to _date_ the dragon. She giggled hysterically at that thought while Ron gave her a worried look that she brushed off.

 

No, maybe it wasn’t Ron who’d changed. And that was the problem. Harry had grown out of his childhood rivalry with Malfoy, and Ron couldn’t. And while it was probably due to the long-standing feud between the two pureblood families, Ron wasn’t even making an attempt to see that there might be more to Malfoy than what they’d all thought. No, his reasoning was that _Harry_ was compromised and should be isolated from the blond.

 

And, if she was perfectly honest with herself, Hermione really didn’t want to have to teach Ron the difference. It was something that Harry would have to do, and if her errant boyfriend kept pushing things with their friend, he wouldn’t like the results of that particular situation. She would just have to wait for it to happen to help either one or the other to get over things.

 

“Ron, I want to talk to my mum alone,” she said quietly, hoping that her tone wasn’t as tired as she felt. “I’ll come and check on Percy later, but right now, I want to see my mum and cry on her shoulder or let her cry on mine. Just… I’ll find you later.”

 

His face scrunched up in distaste, but eventually he nodded. “Alright,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before walking away.

 

 _‘Things will never be the same again,’_ she thought as she steeled herself to enter the door that separated her from her mother. _‘I’m not sure how we’re going to get through this whole.’_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

How long they stayed there, arms wrapped around each other’s backs, whispering nonsensical words and kissing, Draco was unsure, but he’d never felt so peaceful before. Harry was _here,_ in Draco’s arms, whispering in _his_ ear like a lover, letting his warmth slowly leak into Draco’s body. It was nirvana.

 

Until Harry pulled away and stared at him for a long moment with a questioning look on his face.

 

“What?” Draco asked, unsure if he really wanted to know what was going on in the Gryffindor’s mind.

 

“When did you… realize that you felt differently for me?” Harry whispered as his face and neck flushed prettily.

 

“I’m not sure. It was probably that summer between fifth and sixth year, shortly after you’d had my father arrested at the Ministry.”

 

“I didn’t have Lucius anything,” Harry snarled. “Him, your _utter_ bitch of an aunt, some stupid Death Eaters, and Tom all showed up to get that stupid prophecy.”

 

“What prophecy?” Draco blinked, wondering just how much about Harry’s life he was going to be let in on this particular conversation.

 

“Ugh, I forget how much you don’t know,” Harry groaned, clasping his head with one hand while lost in thought. “Professor Trelawney isn’t as big a hack as we all thought. Sometimes, she really can tap into the True Sight. At least, that’s the way Dumbledore explained it to me.

 

“Anyway, sometime before either of us was born, she had an interview for the teaching job here and had a prophetic moment. Snape overheard it and took it back to Voldemort.”

 

“What did it say?” Draco whispered, trying to ignore the chill that rushed down his back.

 

“Something about the one who could kill Voldemort would be born at the end of July from parents that had defied him three times, that he’d be marked as his equal, and that neither could live while the other survived.” He paused, his green eyes closed but pain lancing his words perfectly. “It was between me and Nev. I got elected for Voldemort’s personal attention, while your aunt was sent after Nev’s parents.”

 

Draco gasped as he realized what exactly Harry was talking about. “So, that’s how you became the Boy Who Lived…”

 

“Yeah, just think. He could have gone after Neville, and where’d we be then?”

“Don’t joke about that, Harry. It’s a very scary thought.” Even though he was serious, Harry chuckled darkly. “But, why did he choose you over Longbottom?”

 

“You want my theory or Dumbledore’s?” Harry sighed as he turned his head to stare at Draco for a long time before continuing. “Nev’s a pureblood… Me, I’m a half-blood with a pureblood parent. That means Ol’ Snake Face and I have something in common.” He snorted. “Did you know that before he went completely psychotic that he had black hair and green eyes?”

 

“So…” Draco took a deep breath. “So, he saw you as the bigger threat because of the similarities you share?”

 

“That’s as good a guess as anyone’s come up with. He’s crazy, so I’m not sure why he’s after me so much anymore, aside from the fact that I didn’t die that night and I keep beating him with pure luck.” He sighed heavily again, and Draco was sure that that would be the sound that broke his heart… if he was some soppy, pathetic Hufflepuff. As it was, it brought his thoughts back to the beginning of this particular part of their conversation.

 

“So, after my father was arrested and my mother fell ill, I had a lot of time to think by myself. Severus visited, of course, but it wasn’t often enough to make it worth much. And then, Aunt Bella and the Dark Lord freed the rest of the Death Eaters from Azkaban. I had less time for myself, but I spent more time thinking to myself.” He paused and then glared at Harry. “Do you know what it's like to hate you throughout the day, getting the _Cruciatus_ cast on me to the point of near insanity and then crawl into bed, half-fearing and half-praying that I will dream about you? Every bloody day? For months on end?”

 

Harry’s face went from sympathetic to gobsmacked rather quickly. “I can’t really say that I do,” he managed after a few seconds of silence.

 

“It’s rather mortifying, to be honest. I found out a few things that I didn’t really want to know at the time.”

 

Again, it was silent, but painfully so this time. “Did you?” he asked in a tiny, hopeful voice.

 

“Did I what?” Draco gave Harry a contemplative look and tried to ignore the annoying fluttering of his heart.

 

“Dream of me?”

 

“Merlin, yes, every bloody night.”

 

Harry blushed prettily again, his earlier brashness obviously forgotten. Draco knew he was blushing as well, but he was so wrapped up in Harry’s actions that he didn’t put enough effort into being truly embarrassed. Green eyes blinked in confusion before turning to stare directly at Draco’s face. “What about?”

 

All the blood in his body rushed to his groin as flashes of his old dreams came to him and he swallowed down a lump in his throat, but he was sure that his voice was still thick with desire when he spoke again. “A lot of things.”

 

He knew he wasn’t imagining the look of utter interest on Harry’s eager face or the deepening of the flush on the other teen’s cheeks. “Like what?”

 

“Like this,” Draco said before pulling Harry up onto the bed where he rested, yanking him down to lie on top of him and kissing those soft lips for all he was worth. It took a few seconds for Harry to respond, but when he did so, he was so bloody enthusiastic that Draco could only mourn the fact that they were still in the infirmary. Broom-calloused hands made their way up his shirt to run over the planes of his chest and stomach and the little sounds Harry made while they snogged were absolutely delicious.

 

Sadly, he knew it was too good to last. He heard the door open and before he could look up so he could properly curse the intruder, a familiar - and unwelcome - voice shouted. “What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you, Harry?!”

 

TBC


	18. Chapter Sixteen ~ I'm Not Feeling Guilty

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

 

** Chapter Sixteen – I’m Not Feeling Guilty **

“What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you, Harry?!” Ron’s voice pulled Harry from the very lovely buzz his mind had disappeared into while practically humping Draco on the hospital bed. His ‘friend’ had some really shit timing, to say nothing of how sick of him he was getting in general this year.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” he growled, extracting his hands from under Draco’s shirt, licking his lips even as the blond pouted, glaring over at the redhead in the doorway. “Can’t you _see_ that we’re busy?”

“Yeah, I can _see_ that you’re practically crawling inside Malfoy right now,” Ron shouted, leaving some very interesting ideas in Harry’s brain, even though it was nearly guaranteed that that wasn’t what he’d meant to do. “How can you even let that dirty Slytherin _touch_ you?” His face was nearly purple with rage, making Harry notice that it clashed with his violently bright red hair. But it made Harry really look at Ron for the first time in years, and he didn’t like what he saw one bit.

“I can and do because, for one, he’s not his father or Voldemort. Two, he’s actually quite fastidious, nearly anal about that, truthfully. And three, he’s not even like you. He doesn’t _care_ that I’m Harry ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ Potter. He likes me, Harry.” He looked down at Draco, who was staring at him with a look of utter stupefaction and adoration. He had to grin momentarily before Ron demanded their attention again.

“And what about Ginny?”

Harry blinked, stunned. “What about her, Ron?”

“Why did you break up with her? For _him_?” An ugly look twisted the redhead’s face before he bunched his fists and stepped forward as if he was going to strike Draco. That pissed Harry off, and made him want to hurt Ron first, though not before he set the record straight. He let out a bitter laugh as he pulled completely away from Draco to stand in front of the bed he had been lying down in.

“You’ve got it all wrong, ickle Ronniekins,” he spat viciously, using the nickname from the twins that Ron despised.

“Don’t you _dare_ call me that, you Slytherin _whore_ ,” he snarled.

A cool hand grabbed the back of Harry’s shirt, but he ignored it as he stepped forward. “You _pathetic_ git, your sister broke up with _me_ for _Luna_. Last year.”

Ron blinked comically for a few seconds and his face instantly drained of all color. “What?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Harry asked bitterly. “She and Luna became closer after the mess at the Department of Mysteries. It didn’t go anywhere until _after_ she started dating me. And then, out of the blue, _she_ dumped _me._ End of story. I didn’t tell you and Hermione because it’s bloody embarrassing! Draco had nothing to do with it.” The blond shifted on the bed and wrapped his lean arms around Harry’s waist in a protective gesture that Ron would have had to be stupid to miss. It also served to hide the angry shaking Harry’s entire body was engaged in. “Get away from me. I don’t want to see you until you get a brain.”

Ron stared at Harry like he’d hit him. “But, mate…”

“Do _not_ call me ‘mate’. You’re the world’s biggest arse right now, and I don’t even want to _look_ at you. If I catch you threatening Draco _ever_ again, I _will_ make sure you can’t do it again. Now, leave.”

The only sounds for a long time after that were Harry’s heavy breathing, Ron’s small squeaks of surprise as he gaped like a fish, and a faint purring sound from Draco. Finally, Ron skulked away, shutting the door to the infirmary behind him quietly. When they were alone, Draco spun Harry around quickly and the yanked him down to snog his face off. Harry pulled away after a minute, laughing. “What was that for?”

“Do you know how _bloody hot_ you are when you’re pissed?” Draco asked breathlessly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, I can’t help myself now,” Harry whispered before leaning back in for another kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville had tried to leave Harry and Malfoy alone. He’d felt the blond’s panic attack earlier while he was in his Herbology lesson, followed by Harry’s distress, but his grandmother had made it perfectly clear that she would not allow him any leeway if his grades slipped at all this year. She was expecting him to pass his N.E.W.T.s with nothing less than EE in every subject. Truthfully, that would be easy, even Potions, since Snape wasn’t teaching it; if he could just tune out his friends’ emotions.

Although, he did feel them both calm down shortly after his visit following afternoon lessons. It had been a strained and stressful morning. Neville had been left to tell their professors that Malfoy and Harry were in the infirmary and that he’d like to collect any school work they’d miss. So, when he’d felt strong anger and loathing coming from _Harry_ , the brown-haired teen knew there could only be from one source, Ronald Weasley, due to recent circumstances. Sure enough, standing in the open door to the hospital wing was the red-haired Gryffindor, his aura leaking disgust and hatred.

 _‘I hope he caught them kissing,’_ Neville thought spitefully, shaking his head at the uncharacteristic idea. He stayed back and waited a few moments, testing the emotions of the three young men as they had it out. He really didn’t care what was said, unless it resulted in him having to console his friends over Ron’s stupidity. Still, the redhead skulking away like a kicked dog wasn’t something he’d prepared himself for. Nor was the other boy addressing him.

“Neville, mate,” Ron started, voice cracking in ways it hadn’t since he’d hit puberty. “How long have Harry and… Malfoy,” he shuddered in revulsion, “been an item?”

“Oh, have they admitted it then?” Neville asked, making his voice purposefully perky. “It’s about bloody time they did that. Like to drive me nutters, they were.”

“You- You mean they haven’t…” He scrunched his eyes up. “They haven’t- you know?”

Neville shrugged, feeling oddly amused by the other Gryffindor’s reluctance to talk about Harry and Draco - for he was Draco now and he’d insist the blond call him by his given name after this - being a couple. “I don’t know what exactly they’ve done, Ron. Neither has confessed to me, and I truthfully don’t need them to do so. However, they like one another and have for a while. So, I have no problem with them doing what they want. Draco is halfway decent once you get him away from the other Slytherins.”

When Ron stomped away in distaste, the brown-haired boy gave into a face-splitting grin. _‘That’s one less stressor for Harry and Draco.’_ He sobered immediately when he remembered the way the day started. _‘Hopefully they’ll have more good news as well.’_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ginny looked up from the book she’d been reading while sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Luna playing with her hair as her brother walked in. His face was unnaturally pale and he wore a contemplative expression. “What’s wrong, Ron?” she asked, closing her book and shifting to sit up straight as Ron took the chair across from the loveseat she and her girlfriend were on.

“I… I went to check on Harry because he never showed up at the hospital,” he replied. She noted that his voice was distant.

“And? How is he? I can’t imagine that Neville would have neglected to tell me if something was wrong.”

“Oh, he’s fine, physically, I reckon.” A faint flush added some color to his face, making it appear somewhat normal, but it was the distant look in his eyes that had Ginny wondering just what the hell was going on. “He was staying with… _Malfoy._ ”

“Ah,” she replied, trying to swallow the grin that was threatening to break out. It didn’t stop Luna from giggling though. “So, how is Draco?”

“Since when is he Draco?” Ron snapped.

“Well, I’d say since he was born, but I’ve been calling him Draco since he was sincerely polite to Luna and me when we met with him, Harry and Neville in the library… What was that, Luna, a month ago?”

“Yes, I believe so, Ginny,” Luna said dreamily, running her hands through Ginny’s fiery red hair possessively. “Draco Malfoy is so much more likeable now that he’s friends with Harry.”

“He is,” Ginny responded, waiting for Ron’s impending blow-up.

“Well, um, okay,” he said, shooting odd looks at Luna and her hand in Ginny’s hair. “Since when have you two been so close?” He sounded as if he was almost accusing them of… well, what they were doing.

“I don’t know, Ron. We’ve been neighbours and friends since we were children,” Ginny snapped, instantly regretting her tone at the look of ire on her older brother’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so waspish.”

“Harry told me that you,” he paused as if he gathering his courage for some reason, “broke up with him to date Luna. Is it true?”

She couldn’t help it. Not really. He looked so lost. Ginny burst out laughing and collapsed into Luna’s side as her body shook with the force of her guffaws. “Yes,” she managed after a few tense moments. “Luna and I have been dating since May.”

“And you didn’t tell me!”

“It’s none of your bloody business who I see, Ronald Weasley,” Ginny yelled, ignoring the looks that their confrontation was gathering around the crowded room. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about your relationship with Hermione. It’s not doing so hotly, is it?”

She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. Ron’s face shut down and he closed his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“Ron, you may want to mind your own matters for a change,” Luna said, disentangling herself from Ginny. “I’m going back to Ravenclaw tower, Ginny. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Um, yeah, okay, Luna,” Ginny answered uncertainly. She smiled when her girlfriend gave her a chaste kiss before leaving. “Goodnight.”

Ron, who had been oddly quiet during all this, scowled until the blonde girl left. “Luna though?”

His sister gave him a sharp look. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just trying to process it. What would Fred and George say in this situation?” He was surprised when she began laughing at him.

“They already know,” she managed when her laughter died down. “They told me it was a better match than Harry, as much as they love him like a brother. They said something about us not being right for one another. I guess now we know why.”

“Because you both prefer blonds?” Ginny gave her brother a smile before getting up from the couch she was still stretched out on.

“I’d say so.” She kissed him on the forehead and walked towards the girls’ dormitory. “Night, Gin,” he called out after her. He just needed time to adjust to everything and then things would be back to normal. Or, as normal as things got around Mr. Harry James Potter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville hadn’t even been in the hospital room five minutes before a mysterious owl flew into the opened door and dropped a letter on Draco’s bed. It hadn’t even stopped to get payment or allowed any of the three boys a chance to touch it. It was gone just as suddenly as it appeared, leaving the three teens mystified.

Draco had just reached out a hand to pick up the stiff envelope when Harry stopped him. “Don’t,” the black-haired boy whispered. “We need to check it before you open it. Who knows what’s wrong with this letter.”

The blond shot an annoyed look at his friend before sighing. “You’re right, but Harry, I know that handwriting.”

“Yeah, well, you trusted Parkinson too, and we know how that turned out!”

“Harry,” Neville interjected. “We _all_ know that handwriting.”

That caught his attention and forced Harry to actually look at Draco’s name scrawled across the creamy paper in the achingly familiar spidery letters. He’d seen it so often on his Potions essays, usually in some cutting remark about his usefulness and intelligence. “Snape…” He looked at the blond with a betrayed expression. “Draco?”

“He’s my godfather, Harry, and he’s with my mother,” Draco managed, his voice quiet and tight with pain. “What if…”

“Fine, but we’ll have Dumbledore check it first.”

“Okay…”

TBC


	19. Chapter Seventeen ~ I've Come Too Far

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

**Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! Your kind words are helping me get these chapters out! Special thanks to Sevfan, Sky and Jamie!

 

** Chapter Seventeen – I’ve Come Too Far **

Harry swallowed the sense of betrayal that threatened to overtake him as he followed his two friends to the Headmaster’s office. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Snape had murdered McGonagall, and in front of witnesses no less. It wasn’t the blond’s fault that the great greasy git had been named him godfather – no more than Sirius being Harry’s godfather was Harry’s fault. No, it may not have been Draco’s fault at all, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the desire to scream at him for even wanting to read what Snape had to say.

But, then, he remembered the way Draco’s already pale face had loss all trace of color, resembling a discarded piece of parchment, when Neville had levitated Snape’s letter out of the infirmary’s door. When he went to offer an arm to the other boy, Draco had glared defiantly at him.

“I’m not some invalid, Potter,” he growled.

“I never said you were, Draco,” Harry replied, taking care to check his flaring temper. “I was merely offering assistance.”

The blond then blushed. “Thank you, but it’s unneeded.” The rest of their trip was thick with what no one was saying. The letter could hold nothing good.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Well, boys, I’ve run a few tests on it, and there’s nothing on the letter to alarm anyone,” Dumbledore said. He was obviously trying to reassure the three young men standing in front of his desk, but there was a note in his voice that set Draco’s senses on high alert.

_‘He said there’s only nothing_ on _the letter to raise suspicions.’_ The blond eyed the Headmaster carefully. He looked tired and worried. _‘Well, hell,’_ he thought. _‘I guess I won’t know what Sev has to say that has Dumbledore so worried if I don’t actually read it.’_ He spared a look to his right for Harry, seeing the black-haired teen clenching and unclenching his jaw in an attempt to rein in his infamous temper. _‘Merlin, I understand why he and Sev hate each other, sort of, but he’s my godfather. And he’s with my mother. I_ can’t _just not read this letter. Besides, Sev is the one who suggested that I turn to Harry in the first place.’_

“Headmaster, should I read it?” Draco asked, suddenly feeling like five years old and scared out of his mind. He wanted his mother, desperately. When he felt a hot hand grasp his chilled one, he looked down. Strong, broom-calloused fingers were wrapped around his own, lending him strength that he needed very much at that time.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, the only way to know what Severus has to say to you is to actually read what he says,” the old man replied. “You are more than welcome to peruse the letter here or take it with you and read it somewhere more private.”

“I think I’ll read it here, if you don’t mind,” Draco said, holding out his unoccupied hand and receiving the letter with an air of dread. He shook loose Harry’s hand reluctantly and opened the single sheet of parchment, preparing himself for the worse before actually reading the words.

_‘Draco, I have your mother in a safe place. You’ll remember it. You played there as a young boy, chasing after garter snakes and the odd stray cat. I had to push the date of our escape up from your father’s estate. Her health was declining too quickly. Although your aunt was ordered to stop torturing Narcissa, I’m afraid that Bellatrix wasn’t able to do so after missing out having her fun with the Tonks family.  
‘Right now, I’m not sure what else I can do for her. I have given her all of the potions in my power to do so, but I fear that anymore would damage her and your unborn sibling. Taking her to St. Mungo’s is, of course, out of the question. The best thing would be to bring her to Hogwarts, but certain people of our mutual acquaintance do not regard me well, though I hardly blame them. Perhaps you would speak to Professor Dumbledore about finding a way to allow me to securely bring her to the school and then leave. Madam Pomfrey would be able to help her, and Slughorn should be able to adequately brew any potions she needs. Or perhaps you’d feel better doing so yourself.  
‘I’d suggest you hurry. I believe I can only keep her for a week at the most before irreparable damage is incurred. – S’_

Draco looked up, not sure when he’d sunk to his knees as he read Severus’s letter, and found Harry’s bright green eyes so close to his face. “What does he say, Draco?”

“My mother is alive and in a safe location, but she’s rather ill. Sev’s not sure he can take care of her and wants to bring her here. He’s just not certain that it would be safe for him.” His voice was small and lost. He knew that he was choking back tears, but he didn’t care. Harry and Longbottom, Neville, wouldn’t tease him about this or use it against him. They knew how he felt about his mother being held a virtual captive by his father and the Dark Lord. And Dumbledore was too wise to say anything as well. _‘I guess there are_ some _advantages to surrounding myself with Gryffindors.’_

“My dear boy, of course I would allow Severus to bring your mother here. I am sure that Harry agrees with me that regardless of personal opinions about certain individuals, the lives of an innocent woman and her child are infinitely more important.”

“Of course,” Harry said thickly, swallowing a few times. It was the earnest and pleading look in his bright eyes that made Draco slowly smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered before wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck. “Thank you so very much, Harry.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry didn’t know how long they sat there on the floor of Dumbledore’s office, holding onto one another. It didn’t matter. He would have gladly stayed there forever, with Draco in his arms, but only if he could get the blond to stop thanking him. He’d agreed to leave Snape alone for the reason that the Headmaster had said, of course, but he’d really done it for Draco. He didn’t want thanks. He just wanted his… whatever Draco was… happy. This would make him more than. It was simply an added bonus for him that it allowed him this tiny bit of affection. So it was with extreme reluctance that he let the blond pull away from him.

“Oh, I have to write Sev right away,” he said, his face bright with a soft smile that warmed Harry’s heart. “Thank you, Harry.” Draco’s lips brushed against Harry’s cheek before he stood up and left.

“Well, I guess that means I can stop worrying about you two, yeah?” Neville said with a sly grin. To be honest, Harry had forgotten that his friend was with them while he’d been holding Draco. He’d been too quiet.

“You were still worried?” Harry asked cheekily, trying hard to not blush.

“Well, yes and no, since that day with the spell, things have been better. I could tell that much. But I also knew that nothing happened after then.” Neville looked over at the headmaster and grimaced. “Perhaps we can talk about this later, Harry.”

“Yeah, probably the smart thing to do.” Harry also looked at Dumbledore, who appeared to be extremely tired and ancient. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, my boy. It’s just been a very long day, as I’m sure you’d agree. If there’s nothing else, I have to alert Poppy to the fact that she will be getting new patients.”

“Are you going to tell the others about Mrs. Malfoy’s rescue?”

“I don’t know if that’s wise right now,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “If it becomes an issue, I will alert the Tonkses first and Kingsley and Alastor after that.” Harry nodded and then headed towards the door before turning around to face his mentor again.

“We can trust Snape, right? He’s not going to come into the school with Mrs. Malfoy as some excuse and then try to kill either of us, is he?”

“It’s highly doubtful, Harry, but we should all be on our guards for the next few weeks. I have the feeling that Lucius Malfoy will hardly be happy about the ‘death’ of his wife and unborn child. I fear that Draco may be the one to suffer for Severus’s actions.”

“What do you mean?” Neville asked, looking at the older man carefully. “If he doesn’t leave Hogwarts, he should be safe, yes?”

“While true, Mr. Longbottom, I do believe that Draco will be unable to continue as a ‘spy’ after this.”

“What are you saying, sir?” Harry asked, feeling oddly light-headed.

“I fear that the two of you should stick closely to your friend and watch others in your year.”

“Is there anyone specific we should keep an eye on?” Dumbledore was the master of the vague warning, and Harry had learned to decipher them over the years.

“Just watch, Harry,” Dumbledore answered. “I cannot know everything that goes on around here, as you are well aware.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” the boy muttered before looking at his friend. “Perhaps we should try and find Draco. Just in case, mind.”

“Probably for the best.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He was alone for the first time in months. There would be no better time than now to get him. But, if Malfoy was by himself, where the hell were Potter and Longbottom?  It was a chance to get his family out of suspicions from the Aurors, but he couldn’t be caught attacking the blond aristocrat.

Out of options, the dark-haired boy drew out his wand, readying a Stunning spell.

Of course, he didn’t see the bushy-haired girl behind him. And only the sound of her squeak caught his attention before a red light hit him full in the face. Then, he knew no more.

TBC


	20. Chapter Eighteen ~ You Gotta Spend Some Time

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

**Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! Poor Draco’s earlier actions are coming to bite him in the bum. Thanks and chocolate go to Sevfan, Sky, and Jamie! I don’t want to think about what this would look like without your help.

 

** Chapter Eighteen – You Gotta Spend Some Time **

“Oh, my god,” Hermione gasped, staring down at the prone form of Terry Boot.

“Granger, thank you,” Malfoy said. He was clutching an envelope to his chest with a hard glint in his eyes. “I didn’t even hear him.”

“Well, he was being quiet,” she replied, shaking herself out of the shock. “Where are Harry and Neville?”

“I left them in the headmaster’s office so that I could answer a letter from my mother.” She watched his face, but she couldn’t tell if the blond was lying or not. It would be easy enough to ask her friends later if it was important.

“I wonder why he would try to attack you,” she mused aloud.  Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but shut it just as quickly when the sound of heavy footsteps came up the stairs of the Owlery.

“Draco, are you here?” Harry called before him.

“Up here, Harry,” the blond returned. Hermione turned around to face the open doorway. The smile on her friend’s face spoke volumes.

_‘Oh, God, he’s in love with Draco Malfoy…’_ She stopped, wondering at her reaction before shaking her head. Hadn’t the blond changed? Hadn’t she almost defended him to her own boyfriend? Hadn’t she seen him in the company of Ginny, Neville and Luna, acting like a normal human being? Hadn’t he been extremely polite to her since his return, not using the word ‘Mudblood’ where anyone could hear him? Why was she surprised? _‘It could be worse, I suppose.’_

“’Mione, what’re you doing here?” Harry asked, his smile faltering a tiny bit as he looked around. She didn’t miss it when his face turned hard as he saw the downed Ravenclaw between Hermione and Draco.

“Well, I was going to send a letter to Mrs. Weasley, thanking her for being so kind to my mum while she was in the hospital, and I saw him,” she pointed at Terry, “pointing a wand at Malfoy here. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, so I Stunned him before he could cast a spell.”

“Draco?”

The blond shook his head. “I was about to send my letter off. The next thing I knew, Granger here was taking down Boot. I didn’t see anything.”

“Nev, can you go get Professor Dumbledore and Professor Swanly,” Harry asked curtly. Neville nodded and ran from the Owlery as if it were on fire. “Thanks for helping, ‘Mione.”

“Yes, well, Malfoy’s been fairly decent lately and he hasn’t done anything to Terry, so I thought it would be best to take him out before things got out of hand.” She gave Harry a wry smile, which he attempted to return. But he failed miserably.

“Oh, Merlin,” the blond muttered, putting one long-fingered hand up to his face.

“What?” Harry asked, coming up and wrapping his arms around the other boy, who just buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck. She thought she could hear a mumbled “later” from the upset blond. “Draco, can I tell Hermione about what’s going on?”

Malfoy’s head shot up so quickly that Hermione feared he’d smack heads with Harry, and the look on his face was enough to curdle milk. “Why?”

“If you’re worried about my reaction to the fact that you two are involved, save it,” Hermione said crisply. “I don’t care who Harry dates, so long as he’s happy. But, just know that if you hurt him, I know some spells that can remove your ‘bits’ quite easily.”

She thought she saw Malfoy’s lips twitch in amusement. “It’s not really that I don’t believe you’re trustworthy, Granger. Merlin knows that you alone have stuck by Harry through everything since first year, even my stupid schemes. It’s just…”

“Personal?” she asked. He nodded in response. “Well, I am the soul of discretion.” Again, he gave the small twitch before staring straight into Harry’s eyes.

“I guess,” he whispered after finding whatever he was looking for in their friend’s face. “But not here.”

“When we deal with Boot,” Harry said, scowling again, “we’ll all go to the Room of Requirement and talk there.”

“Is this something Ron and Ginny should know?” Hermione asked. She instantly regretted it when she was met by twin looks of disgust. “What the hell did Ronald do?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Harry said, pulling away from Draco and staring down at Terry Boot’s body. She could tell from his body posture that he was holding back some instinct to hurt the unconscious boy and was glad that he was refraining. Harry wasn’t pretty when he was mad.

When Professors Dumbledore and Swanly appeared, Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What’s going on here?” Professor Swanly asked in her sharp voice. Draco held back a grimace and looked at the narrow-faced woman. It looked as if she’d run all the way from her office, and so had Neville and Professor Dumbledore, who were taking a moment to drag air in, it appeared. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The Slytherin stood back, quiet and stone-faced, as Harry and Granger began talking at the same time.

“Professor, I was-” “Professor, Boot, he-”

“One at a time, if you please, children,” Dumbledore said in a kindly voice. “Miss Granger, if you would go first.”

“Yes, sir,” the Muggleborn girl said. “I was coming up to the Owlery to send a letter to Mrs. Weasley. I saw Boot here with his wand out. When I looked beyond him, I could see Malfoy’s hair at one of the windows. Terry, he didn’t say anything or call out to Malfoy, and Malfoy was minding his own business. I didn’t know what was going to happen, so I Stunned Terry.”

“And you didn’t also restrain Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger?” Professor Swanly asked, quickly sliding her eyes to glare harshly at Draco. He knew he wasn’t imagining the hatred that the older woman was sending in his direction. Whether it was for him personally or the fact that he was a Malfoy wasn’t important and didn’t really shock him. He was growing used to looks like that.

He wasn’t the only one who saw the ugly look on the teacher’s face though. The three Gryffindors all were looking at their Head of House with varying degrees of anger. Something inside of Draco that had been tight and painful relaxed, and suddenly he felt much lighter than he could remember being in a long time.

“Well, no, Professor Swanly, Malfoy wasn’t a threat. He hadn’t even turned around or spoken yet,” Granger said eventually. “I don’t think he even knew that anyone was there until I Stunned Boot.”

“Hm,” the woman replied, looking at her boss with an expectant air.  

“Professor Swanly, if you would please go get Professors Slughorn and Flitwick and meet me in my office,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the tension from the teenagers and his employee. Draco looked up at the old man and felt like raging when he noticed the almost amused look on his face. “I am glad to see that you are well, Draco, but I would suggest that you avoid being alone for the time being. Until the winter holidays, it will be safer if you stay with one of your friends here.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said between clenched teeth. _‘It is sound advice and I’d be a fool not to take it, but I resent his jovial attitude about every bloody thing.’_

“Miss Granger, I would appreciate it if you and Harry would walk Draco back to my office. Mr. Longbottom and I will be escorting Mr. Boot there as well, as soon as I revive him.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” Granger said. _‘Bloody sycophant,’_ Draco thought before shaking his head and letting Harry take his arm.

They were halfway down the staircase before Harry spoke again. “Did you get the chance to send off your letter, Draco?”

“No, Boot and Granger interrupted right before I could even attach the letter to Tiberius’s leg.”

“Hm,” Harry muttered. “Did I imagine the look on Professor Swanly’s face as she looked at you?”

“If you’re hallucinating, then we all are, Harry,” Granger piped in. “She really hates Malfoy, and to be honest, he’s been a human being this year.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Draco drawled, raising one pale eyebrow. She, in turn, blushed furiously, causing a smile to ghost across his face. “And thank you again for your assistance. It was stupid of me to walk around the castle alone.”

“It is a shame that even when you clean up your act that the others don’t give you the benefit of the doubt,” the girl said. Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed, full and hard.

“Granger,” he gasped out while holding his sides, looking up at the girl’s scowl and Harry’s wry smile. “I understand that you are trying to defend my honor – valiant try, truly – but they have no reason to trust me or even like me. I was lucky with Harry and Neville, as well with the female Weasley and Lovegood. No one is required to like me, and I finally understand that.” He looked over at Harry’s face and felt his heart speed up at the openly adoring look the other boy was wearing.

_‘I suppose he’s through with trying to hide our relationship, whatever it is,’_ Draco thought, feeling a bit lightheaded with giddiness. _‘I will be clarifying things, because Harry is_ MINE _now, and I don’t share my things.’_

“Let’s get Draco to the Headmaster’s office before anyone else appears in the halls, ‘Mione,” Harry said with a faraway voice.

“Of course,” she replied with a thoughtful look on her face again.

Well, Draco pondered as they walked along, there was always the talk they’d be having later in the Room of Requirement to clear things up more. If he didn’t get an answer with Granger and Longbottom in the room, well, they could leave. It was beyond time they’d defined things between them. Harry had been right about that earlier.

And this latest altercation _had_ opened Draco’s eyes more. He could no longer put off what he had with Harry until the war was over. It wasn’t fair to either of them. And with Draco’s inherent selfishness and possessiveness getting worse by the moment, he didn’t care what his father had to say anymore.

His mother and unborn sibling were free and safe, and Lucius and Voldemort’s days were numbered.

TBC


	21. Chapter Nineteen ~ Here With Me

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

**Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! Here’s a longer chapter to make up for the shortness of the two previous ones. And what can I say about Sevfan, Sky, and  Jamie that I haven’t already? I adore you all!

** Chapter Nineteen – Here With Me **

“I swear, Professors, I wasn’t going to do anything,” Boot protested, drawing looks of disbelief from Professor Slughorn and the other teenagers.

“Mr. Boot, please kindly refrain from insulting the intelligence of everyone in the room,” Slughorn said coolly.

“We all know the little bastard came back to Hogwarts so that he can take Harry back to his Master anyway,” the dark-haired teen growled. “I was saving Harry from being betrayed, like his parents.”

“Terry, be silent,” Professor Flitwick said sadly. “Albus, Terry is generally a good boy, and I haven’t had to discipline him. Surely there are extenuating circumstances going on that we don’t know.”

“Certainly, Filius, and now would be the time for Mr. Boot to defend himself,” Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he watched the Ravenclaw student glare daggers at Draco Malfoy, who stood tall and proud. “Mr. Boot, you have been caught trying to assault a fellow student. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“He had his father send Death Eaters to my family!” The Ravenclaw boy screamed, lunging so that he could bodily pummel the silent, stony blond, but he bounced off of Harry’s chest.

“Draco?” the Headmaster asked, looking over at the blond as well.

“I did no such thing. Everyone in the school knows that Boot’s father took bribes while he worked at the Ministry. That’s why he was fired,” Draco drawled with a dead look in his eyes.

The headmaster sighed. “It is known fairly wide, Terry, that your father was removed from his position for accepting favors from certain people. That, however, does not give you an excuse for attacking a fellow student who has done nothing to you personally. Filius, I shall leave it to you to punish the boy properly.”

The tiny Charms professor looked sad as he looked at his student and sighed heavily. “One hundred points from Ravenclaw and three weeks of detentions with Filch, Terry. And you will report to the tower now. I’m banning you from going to Gryffindor Tower or to the Hufflepuff common room for a month after break. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor,” the still fuming teen replied through clenched teeth, allowing his Head of House to escort him out of Dumbledore’s office, but not before glaring daggers at the lone Slytherin.

“Albus, I may not have been here long, but I know a trouble maker when I see one,” Professor Swanly cut in. “Terry Boot is not one. However, Draco Malfoy is the epitome of trouble. I suggest that he be punished as well.”

“For what, Tabitha?” Dumbledore asked, giving his Transfiguration professor a kind smile. “The only thing Mr. Malfoy is guilty of is having a father that is a Death Eater. And while that is a sad thing for Mr. Malfoy, it is neither a crime nor an offense to anyone. Mr. Malfoy cannot help who his parents are, and since his return, he has been a model student. He has even patched up his differences with Harry and Neville here. If they can have no reason to complain against him, I fail to see what your problem is, my dear lady.”

“Fine, Albus,” the woman sighed. She turned and made her way to the door, but looked over her shoulder at Draco with blazing hazel eyes. “One wrong step, Malfoy, that’s all it will take.” And with that, she was gone in a swish of robes that was a very poor imitation of Snape’s impressive leave-takings.

“Are you going to be okay, Mr. Malfoy?” Slughorn asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“I will be fine, Professor. I wasn’t harmed. Granger was in time to be of assistance,” Draco answered with a slight twitch of his lips, earning him a grin from each of the Gryffindors. “Is there anything else, Headmaster?”

“No, my boy,” Dumbledore replied. “I’d suggest you get that letter to your mother as soon as possible, however.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied before looking over at the other teens. “Would you accompany me, Neville?” Harry and Neville blinked, both obviously surprised by the blond’s choice. Neville, to his credit, gave the dazed Boy Who Lived a weak smile and then replied.

“Of course, Draco.”

“Harry, Granger, we’ll meet you to talk after my letter is delivered,” Draco said. Soon the two were out of the office, and Harry was still standing, obviously unable to get over being left behind by the blond.

“Is there something else, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, no sir,” Harry finally answered, moving stiffly to the door with Hermione trailing after him, just as confused as he was.

“Horace, I have asked Harry and Neville to make sure that they continue to keep Mr. Malfoy company until the Christmas holidays. I doubt we’ll have a repeat of this incident.”

“Yes, that would be prudent, I suppose,” Slughorn said, heaving a rather large sigh. “I should report this to Lucius Malfoy, but I am loath to contact that man.”

“I will let Narcissa Malfoy know what happened,” the headmaster said sadly. “That way, we have alerted one of his parents and we don’t have Lucius trying to storm the castle for his heir.”

“Are you certain that Lucius wouldn’t try and get his son if you tell the boy’s mother?”

“A little bird has told me that the Malfoys are not together, so word will not be reaching Lucius unless you tell him yourself.”

“I’d rather drink my entire stock of pickled Boomslang Skin.”

“Then, I believe that we are covered.” Dumbledore reached for a piece of parchment and a quill. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“No, I believe I will return to my quarters, Albus. Good evening.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville waited until they were far enough away before turning on his blond friend. “Is there a reason you wanted to speak to me alone? It had better be good because I don’t want Harry thinking that we have something going on or anything stupid like that.”

“Yes, actually, there is, Neville,” Draco said quietly. “We’re meeting Harry and Granger at the Room of Requirement. Evidently, Granger’s curious as to what’s going on, and Harry thinks it’s a good idea that I tell her.”

_‘Okay, good idea, I guess, but there’s a catch.’_ “And what else do you want?”

“You know, I take back every cruel word I said about your intelligence, Longbottom,” the blond said with a smirk.

“You still haven’t answered the question, Malfoy.”

“Fine,” Draco chuckled. “I want to speak to Harry privately afterwards. I need you to convince Granger to leave so that that can happen.”

“Alright, that’s harmless enough, I guess,” Neville said after a few moments. “But, you’re telling Harry about this.”

“Of course.” The two boys finished their errand in a friendly silence and ten minutes later found themselves inside the plush sitting room that marked the beginning of their odd friendship. Granger had taken one of the comfortable armchairs before the roaring fire, leaving the other open, while Harry was sitting on the loveseat – with room for another person. Neville took the other chair, forcing Draco to sit next to Harry. That small action released tension from his black-haired friend, who smiled softly at the blond boy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco returned Harry’s smile as he sat down next to him and twined his cold fingers around the warm hand between them. “I suppose you’ll want me to begin at the beginning, Granger?”

“That would be nice, Malfoy,” the girl said calmly.”

“Hm…” The blond sighed as he determined just how much of the situation he wanted to reveal to the girl who until recently seemed to hate him, not that he’d given her any reason to like him before then, to be honest. “Fine, I’m going to give you a condensed version, since I reckon the details will bore you.

“My father was released from Azkaban a week before the beginning of our sixth year. My family became the host of the Dark Lord at that time, along with my _charming_ aunt Bellatrix and my uncles Lestrange. My father decided to move us to one of the smaller estates. My aunt and my father have been using my mother, who was ill while my father was imprisoned, as a sort of leverage to get me to do their bidding. I was given the choice of taking the Dark Mark and sent to Durmstrang to recruit more Death Eaters or I could spy here at Hogwarts, Mark-free. This was after the mess that happened last year between Professor McGonagall and Severus.

“I’m sure that you can figure out what choice I took.”

“I want proof, Malfoy,” the girl demanded. Draco shook his head sadly, but showed her his pale and blemish-free left arm. The way she sighed and crossed her arms against her chest mollified him a little.

“Satisfied?” She nodded. “Good, I’ll continue. I took too long to give my answer, and the Dark Lord had my mother and me punished. It was after seeing my mother screaming in pain that I agreed to be a spy for that _bastard_. As soon as I arrived, I had a run in with Harry here, but it was harmless. Neither of us even drew our wands.”

“Speak for yourself, Draco,” Harry said fondly. “I had mine in my hand.”

“Ah, I stand corrected,” Draco said with a slight smirk. “Continuing my story, I reported to Dumbledore and told him everything. There was nothing I could do for my mother. She refused to leave my father and I didn’t want to have the weight of anyone’s death over my head should someone attempt to rescue her. Especially since I was sure she’d attack any hero sent after her.

“The headmaster offered me sanctuary here in the castle, on the condition that my mail would be monitored and that I only report back to my father what Dumbledore approved.

“Harry and I had a few run-ins after that, and I actually managed to catch him after he’d had a vision. I assisted him and took him back to my room until he recuperated.”

“Harry?” Granger turned to her friend. “Neville?”

“I only got a brief mention of what the vision entailed, but it confirms that Lucius and You Know Who think that Draco is their man,” Neville said, running a hand through his brown hair.

Harry, on the other hand, shrugged guiltily. “It was after Ron tried to pick a fight in the hallways that first Hogsmeade weekend. Draco never cast a single spell and was rather impressive in defending himself. It was a regular Death Eater meeting: Voldemort being an idiot and screaming at everyone, Bellatrix casting her favorite curse, and Lucius being a kiss-arse.”

Granger gave an unladylike snort, softening Draco’s opinion of her as a busybody with no sense of humor. “Alright, so, after that, what happened?”

“Nothing really… Not until I was attacked by those Hufflepuffs down by the lake, and Harry and Neville escorted me from the library where I was safe to the infirmary. When I got out, I approached them about a talk, and we came here and had a very similar meeting, actually.”

“Merlin, that was two months ago,” Neville muttered.

“It was,” Harry agreed. “A lot of things have happened since then.”

“Okay, so, does this have anything to do with breakfast – God – this morning?” the girl asked, shaking her head slowly.

“Actually, it does,” Harry said. “I had a vision last night. In it, Voldemort was talking about Narcissa being barely alive and telling Bella that she had to stop torturing her or she’d die and so would the baby?” Harry looked over at Draco, a question in his eyes that demanded the blond answer.

“Yes, there’s a baby, two actually,” Draco said, feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders. “Lucius sent me a letter last month telling me that my mother and aunt were both pregnant. I sent a letter of congratulations to both of them, but I only heard from my aunt. When my mother didn’t reply, I was pretty sure that she was dead by then.

“However, Harry’s vision gave me hope. And it evidently saved my Aunt Andromeda and her family.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right; Sirius told us that Andromeda and Mrs. Malfoy were sisters. I guess that makes Tonks your cousin?”

“Yes, she and I are cousins. I can only assume that she’s a Metamorphmagus with that hair and those eyes. It’s a Black trait, not that my mother would ever admit it, but my great-great-great-great-grandfather was a Metamorphmagus, so it’s only reasonable to assume that it would show up down the line later.”

“Fascinating,” Granger said dreamily before shaking her head. “We can talk about that later, but what else is going on?”

“Sometime after you left us in the infirmary, Neville came by, and while we were talking, an owl delivered a message from Snape.” Draco looked over at Harry and gave him a pleading look. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve heard from my godfather. He’s been sending me messages since I got here. Harry, he… he told me that it would be in my best interest to side with you, but I didn’t want to listen to him. It wasn’t until you approached me yourself after the scene in the library that I even really considered it.”

The blond wanted to cry as he saw the Gryffindor’s jaw clench. “How many times have you gotten messages from him then?”

“Today’s letter was the third since I returned to Hogwarts.”

“Were you going to tell me?” The hurt tone in his voice sent daggers into Draco’s heart, but the fact that Harry hadn’t taken back his hand gave Draco the courage to continue.

“Yes, I’d asked Dumbledore about it, and he suggested that I tell you that Severus was in contact with me and trying to keep me safe. His second message told me to not go home for Christmas. That’s why I mentioned that to you when Neville cast the Joining charm on us.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Harry said in a more normal voice.

“What did this third letter say, Malfoy?” Granger asked, cutting into the mood that had gathered between Harry and Draco.

The Slytherin swallowed before looking over at the other two. “Sev let me know that my mother is alive and well and he has her in a safe location. I know where it is, but she needs more attention than he can supply. He wanted to bring her here, but was afraid of interference from Harry on that matter. But, Harry agreed to a sort of truce to get my mother and unborn sibling here and under Madam Pomfrey’s care.” He looked over at Harry. “Do you think Dumbledore has told her that Sev is bringing my mother here?”

“I don’t know. We can ask after we leave here,” Harry replied, his green eyes staring back at Draco in a way that made him heat up.

“I’ll do it for you, Draco,” Neville offered with a knowing smile.

“Thank you, Neville,” the blond replied, turning his head so he could look at the Gryffindor girl again. “I was trying to tell Sev that it was safe to bring her here when Boot attacked. That’s it.”

“Hm, well, that’s a lot to process,” she muttered, tugging on a frizzy brown lock of hair. “And only these two know everything?” All three boys nodded. “What can I do to help you, Malfoy?”

Draco blinked, genuinely surprised by the girl’s offer. “Why would you want to do anything?”

“Well, I’ll be honest, you’ve been a right git for the last six years, but you’ve obviously got some good qualities, like I tried to tell Ron, or Harry wouldn’t be friends with you. It’s not for you that I’m offering help, but Harry really.” She looked over at their black-haired friend with a sad smile. “I haven’t really been much of an understanding friend since Sirius died, Harry, and I’m truly sorry. I didn’t pay attention to you at all last year, so I never noticed when you and Ginny broke up, or when she started to date Luna.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t until the train ride here that I finally noticed that the two of you weren’t talking or sitting next to each other or anything else. I’d like to make it up to you.”

Harry finally relaxed in his spot next to Draco and gave his friend a smile. “Well, it’s nice to have you back, ‘Mione, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll be just like before.”

“I’d be surprised if it was,” she said sadly. “If you want, I’ll try to work on Ron.”

“No, let Weasley make his own mind up,” Harry said flatly. “I don’t want him to be cajoled back into being my friend only for him to start in on Draco and Neville behind my back.”

“Understood. Is there anything else you can think of that I can do?”

“Not yet, ‘Mione, but give me time. I’m sure some other adventure is going to drop in my lap.” All four laughed, and if it was slightly hysterical, no one mentioned a thing. For the first time since Draco had agreed to tell Granger, he knew he’d made the right decision.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“’Mione,” Neville said when they’d calmed down. “Would you come with me to Dumbledore’s office? We can head back to the tower afterwards?” He looked at where Harry and Draco sat on the loveseat, still holding hands as they had throughout the entire conversation, and the door to the hall. She blinked at him before following his eyes and jumping up from her seat.

“Oh, yes, Neville, I’d love to do that,” she said, pulling him out of the room as fast as she could.

Harry watched them go with a pensive look before turning to the blond next to him. “Alright, Draco, care to tell me why our friends left here as if there was a fire somewhere in the castle?”

“Friends? I was unaware that Granger and I were friends. She was quite adamant about only offering her assistance to me because she wants to get back into your good graces.”

Harry grimaced. Draco was right. While he appreciated that Hermione was trying, he wished she’d been a bit more tactful. “Answer the question, Draco.”

“I asked Neville to leave us alone so we could talk privately,” Draco said calmly, but the faint pink tint on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Talk? That’s all you want to do?” Harry tried to give the other boy a sexy look, but a determined, hard look came onto Draco’s face, banishing the cute blush he’d had a second before.

“What are we, Harry? I know that you brought this up earlier, but I think we need to define it now.”

“You’re the one who wanted to wait before we… dated.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because you keep _looking_ at me, and I like it.”

“Looking at you? What are you talking about, Draco?” Harry was getting really confused.

“You’ve been looking at me like I’m a piece of treacle tart,” Draco said, blushing again.

“Oh…” _‘Have I really been doing that? Merlin, that’s embarrassing. No wonder Hermione made that comment about not caring about whom I date so long as I’m happy.’_ He smiled. “So, does this mean we’re dating?”

“ _Yesssssss_ ,” Draco hissed before leaning over to kiss him.

TBC


	22. Chapter Twenty ~ Just the Way I Am

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

**Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! And I am indebted, as always, to Jamie, Skeren Dreamera and Sevfan! Introducing Narcissa and Snape! *cue dramatic music* Kinda… P.S. Happy Birthday, Draco!

 

** Chapter Twenty – Just the Way I Am **

Lucius looked around at the suite where until two days ago his wife of twenty years had lived. While he didn’t exactly miss her, he _did_ miss what she symbolized – stability, beauty, obedience, and a way to have more children if he needed them. Of course, the loss of his unborn child was devastating. He was now _stuck_ with Draco as his heir until he could remarry and sire another child. And his Lord had already forbidden Lucius from doing so until his victory was secure.

Voldemort had said something about needing his lieutenant focused on their position during the war, not familiar matters. Lucius was not stupid. He knew the comment was really meant for Bellatrix and Rudolphus. Since his sister-in-law had gotten pregnant, her insanity had reached new heights, and nothing that Rudolphus or Rabastan could do reeled in her behaviour.

It was her fault that Lucius was now a widower and expected to mourn the loss of his spouse. And he would have to tell Draco that his mother was dead as well. The boy wasn’t stupid, and he’d notice that Narcissa was nowhere to be found. And since he was the legal Malfoy heir, he could walk into the burial crypt and see that his mother had been laid to rest there. It was easier to avoid his histrionics if Lucius told him now while he was at Hogwarts and then only have to deal with his listlessness and moodiness when he returned for the holidays.

Yes, that was an excellent plan. Standing up, Lucius started formulating the letter to his son, hoping that his many years of training were not forgotten by the boy and he would grieve with dignity. _‘I hope that my son remembers_ exactly _who he is and what is expected from him. However, I_ will _have to get this unpleasantness over and done with.’_

_‘Damn Bellatrix…’_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_‘Glorious Saturday,’_ Harry thought lazily as he carefully opened his eyes, expecting sunlight to break through his curtains in a red and gold shower. Only there was no light whatsoever. All he could see was dark bed curtains surrounding an unfamiliar bed. Panicking, he groped for his wand and glasses, listening intently for any sounds that would let him know where he was, since he was obviously _not_ in his bed in Gryffindor tower. Soft snores were the first clue that wherever the hell he was, he wasn’t alone. Then, there was the warmth that seemed to be melded to his left side as he lay on the bed.

Carefully and slowly, so as not to disturb whoever it was he had slept next to, Harry ran a hand along the bed sheets, stiffening when he touched the soft, oddly familiar fabric. _‘Silk sheets… Who do I know that owns bloody silk sheets?’_ His breathing stopped as he remembered what happened in the Room of Requirement last night after Neville and Hermione left. _‘Oh, Merlin, this is Draco’s bed, isn’t it?’_

Panicking slightly, Harry again started up his search for his wand and glasses. He stiffened yet again when he heard the body next to him let out a sleepy moan. “…Harry… stop moving…” Draco whined huskily.

 “…Draco?”

“Mm?”

“Are we… in your bed?” Merlin, he wanted to curl up and die when he heard how panicky his voice sounded.

To say he was surprised when Draco chuckled would have been an understatement. “You don’t remember last night?” the blond asked, making the sheets rustle as he moved closer.

The dark-haired boy closed his eyes and thought back. _‘Room of Requirement… Talk with ‘Mione and Neville… We’re… we’re dating?’_ He felt the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. _‘We’re dating! Okay, after that… We kissed…’_ He let one of his hands rest comfortably on his chest, feeling a bit of relief when he realized that he was dressed. But, then he noticed that whatever he was wearing was _much_ nicer than his school clothes or his regular pyjamas.

“Am I wearing your clothes?” he squeaked.

“Mm, yes,” his _boyfriend_ purred, leaning over Harry with a sleepy, yet satisfied smile. Draco quickly turned serious when he saw how upset Harry was. “We didn’t do anything but sleep, Harry.”

“I- I know, but…”

“Are you going to tell me that you’re terrified about waking up in bed next to me?” The blond wasn’t quick enough to hide the look of pain on his aristocratic face before his Malfoy mask was in place. “If it’s that big of a deal, we don’t…”

Harry wanted to kick himself. Instead of saying anything, he silenced the other teen with a searing kiss. He used his left hand to pull Draco’s head closer and to play with the blond’s sleep-tousled hair. “No,” Harry panted when they broke for air. “No, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“So, you’re not unhappy?” Draco asked – his tone very obviously hopeful.

“Merlin, Draco, I wasn’t expecting this so quickly,” Harry said truthfully. “However, it’s kinda nice to wake up in this pointlessly luxurious bed so that I can kiss you first thing in the morning.”

A small smile transformed Draco’s face. “You’re not disappointed?”

“About what?”

“About us not doing anything but kissing before we fell asleep?”

“No,” Harry answered, playing with a few strands of hair that fell into Draco’s stormy grey eyes. “I’m fine with us just sleeping like this.” He blushed a little. “I mean, I _want_ more, but this is great too.”

Draco’s smile grew larger. Harry had a few moments before he was covered with the slender, extremely _awake_ blond. Lips crashed together heatedly, hands crawling over each other’s bodies. Harry had just managed to sneak his hands under the shirt of Draco’s silk pyjamas when there was a tap on the window. “No,” Draco groaned, pulling back reluctantly. “I swear when I get my hands on Sev, I’m going to help you murder him.”

Harry bit back a laugh and looked up at his boyfriend, feeling giddy with just thinking the word. Draco, on the other hand, did not appear to be amused. “Not a word, Potter,” he growled, pulling open the green curtains of his bed and yelping as his feet touched the stone floor. Harry was helpless to smother the snickers at Draco’s muttered curses against his godfather as he quickly made his way over to the room’s sole window. When it was opened, a straggly looking owl dropped a note into the blond’s hand before disappearing again.

Harry looked around the Slytherin’s room, confused. The room shouldn’t have had a window, right? “Draco, I thought the dungeons were under the lake?”

“Hm?” The blond looked up from the piece of parchment. “They are, but I think there’s a window in each dorm room that’s enchanted to let in owls and sunlight. Otherwise, it would be pretty grim down here, right?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” the Gryffindor said, sitting up completely and staring at Draco carefully. “What does Snape have to say?”

“I don’t know.” Harry frowned at the trace of fear he could hear in the other teen’s voice. “I’m a little… _anxious_ to find out.”

“How about I read it and I can tell you if it’s good news or bad?” He knew he’d done the right thing when the blond shot him a grateful smile before joining him back on the bed. However, when Draco leaned over to place a small kiss against his lips, he didn’t complain about wanting to get things with Snape’s letter over. He helped ease his boyfriend’s nerves by deepening the kiss and pulling him against his chest. The letter would be there later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron stared up at the canopy of his bed, lost in his thoughts. He’d had a lot to process from the night before. It wasn’t every day you found out that your best friend of six years was suddenly trying to suck the face off of your family’s most hated enemy. And to think his baby sister was so accepting that her ex-boyfriend was willing to take up with a Malfoy after they’d broken up… Well, it was probably the fact that she was dating _Luna_ , of all people, that was keeping his sister from trying to hex the entire male population of the castle.

He turned over and stared at Harry’s empty bed, not really sure how he felt about it. True, there had been a few times where his friend had been up before him and had run off to do things while the rest of the castle slept, but Ron knew that this was something entirely different. Harry hadn’t returned to Gryffindor tower last night. _‘Probably off snogging Malfoy again…’_ He shuddered in disgust before rolling over onto his back again.

Ginny’s words from the night before rolled through his head. She and Malfoy were on first name basis, evidently, and she didn’t care that he was with Harry, since she was seeing Luna. Merlin, was he the last straight person in the entire castle? It just felt _wrong._

Vaguely, he wondered if his parents were aware of whom their daughter was seeing now and if they knew that Ginny and Harry were through. The twins knew, evidently. When he dwelled on that, Ron felt betrayed. Harry and Ron were supposed to be each other’s best friend and Hermione was there to round out the famous ‘Golden Trio’. Instead, Harry was spending all his time with Neville Longbottom and bloody Malfoy. He’d even gotten Ginny and Luna to become friends with the stupid prat. And he was the cause of Ron’s near constant arguing with Hermione now. Ron’s world felt like it was falling down around his ears, and it was all the fault of Harry _bloody_ Potter and DracoMalfoy.

Sitting up, a thought crossed Ron’s mind that would be both beneficial and detrimental to the world as everyone knew it. It was time that the Wizarding world was aware of just what kind of saviour they really had.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, Draco pulled away from Harry, smirking in satisfaction as he took in the dark-haired boy’s flushed cheeks, kiss-bruised lips, and lust-glazed eyes. Nothing that his boyfriend could have said would have brought him more pleasure as just watching him dragging air back into his lungs did. “Merlin, Potter, do you have any idea what you look like right now? You’re in my bed, wearing my clothes, and look like you’re ready to shag. If I was any less of a gentleman, you’d be on your hands and knees, screaming my name.”

Harry’s first reaction was to chuckle softly. “You sound rather sure of yourself there, Malfoy. However, you don’t sound like a _gentleman_.”

The breathless quality of Harry’s voice made Draco lick his lips. “Shut it,” he whispered against Harry’s ear, nipping lightly at the fleshy lobe and dragging out a sexy moan. “Like that, do you?”

“Dra~aco,” Harry whined. “You’re going to have to stop if we’re to join Nev for any homework tutoring today.”

Draco pulled back and heaved a huge sigh. “Fine, but you owe me a huge rain check, Potter.” He watched as Harry sat up and the still rolled parchment caught his eye. Suddenly, all the work that they’d put into trying to keep Draco’s mind off of Severus’s letter was for naught. A warm, calloused hand landed on his nearest shoulder and Draco found himself staring directly into concerned green eyes.

“We don’t have to read it, Draco.”

“Yes, _I_ do, Harry. I have to know.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, picking up the paper with one hand and glancing over it. “They’re here already. He says to leave me wherever I am and to come immediately.” Harry looked up and Draco shook his head. “What? What’s wrong?”

Unbidden, tears began to well up in Draco’s eyes. Before he could blink them away, Harry’s strong arms were around him, holding him tightly. “I’ll go with you, even if Snape _is_ there, Draco. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“Come with me,” Draco whispered in to Harry’s neck, grateful for the other boy’s presence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus paced around the small room that housed Narcissa and her unborn child. He watched the blonde woman as she slept in her magically induced coma. As he paced and stole glances at the pale, sleeping figure, he let his thoughts roam.

His godson was _late_. This could only mean that the boy was with that infernal Potter, doing Merlin knew what. In fact, Severus was working very hard _not_ to think of what the two boys could have been up to. He’d kept in contact with Albus, and the headmaster had only been _too_ happy to make him aware that his godson was consorting with Potter, all over the _bloody_ school. How Lucius and the Dark Lord had yet to hear about it, Severus couldn’t fathom. It certainly didn’t sound as if either was remembering to use an ounce of discretion, to use any of the Slytherin traits they _both_ possessed. No, they were letting their _bloody_ hormones dictate their behaviour.

And when Draco finally showed up, Severus would lecture the boy about what he was doing. It _was_ his job as the infuriating blond’s godfather to remind him of his place when Lucius was too busy kissing the Dark Lord’s arse to do so. Even though he’d told Draco not to bring Potter when he came to the infirmary, he knew neither boy would listen. They were willful, obnoxious teenagers and would do the exact _opposite_ of what they were told. It was in their nature sadly.

He only hoped that Potter would restrain himself around Narcissa. The woman had been tortured so much in the past year that if she came out of everything with any of her sanity intact, Severus would be greatly surprised.

The sound of knocking pulled the Potions Master from his thoughts abruptly, his hand tightening around his wand. It wasn’t Poppy, for that insufferable woman didn’t bother to knock on doors in _her_ infirmary. “Come in,” Severus said quietly.

He relaxed when he saw the familiar white-blond hair and pointed, aristocratic nose peek around the door’s edge before Draco entered the room, his eyes carefully avoiding looking at the bed and its occupant. However, Severus’s relief lasted all of three seconds as Potter’s decidedly lean, tall frame followed his godson and wrapped an arm around his waist protectively. Green fire burned behind his glasses, determined to bore a hole in Severus’s head, no doubt.

Deciding he had no other option but to be polite, the older man nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Potter.”

TBC


	23. Chapter Twenty-One ~ Darling, I Want to Destroy You

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

 **Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! As always, I am indebted to Sevfan and Jamie for all of their help! This time, I promise, it’s really Snape and Narcissa.

 

** Chapter Twenty-One – Darling, I Want to Destroy You **

Harry stiffened as he heard the familiar sneer of his name. Instinctively, he pulled Draco closer, ready to throw him behind the door for protection from anyone and everyone. “Snape.”

He wasn’t ready for the blond in his arms to turn around and scowl at him. “You promised you’d behave, Harry.” The anger flashing behind silver eyes brought the present situation crashing into Harry’s forethoughts and he sighed.

“You’re right. Sorry, Draco. Snape, glad you’re not dead.” He was rewarded with a brief brush of soft lips against his jaw before Draco pulled away to hug their former professor.

“Severus, I’m glad you’re safe!” The older wizard visibly stiffened before finally returning the blond’s embrace lightly.

“You’re late, Draco,” Snape muttered. “No doubt it is Potter’s fault. Has no one bothered to give you a watch, Potter?”

“No,” Harry answered calmly, refusing to rise to Snape’s bait. He _had_ promised Draco that he wouldn’t hex Snape, for Draco and his family’s sake, but it was taking all of his control to hold himself back from avenging McGonagall’s death.

“Sev, where is Mother?” Draco asked, stepping back from his godfather and brushing a hand along Harry’s arm. The simple act, one of seeking and giving mutual comfort, reassured Harry. He let a slight smile lift up the corners of his mouth as he stood beside his boyfriend.

However, he wasn’t ready for when Severus took Draco’s arm and led them all beyond the curtains where his mother laid. She was pale. Well, no, she was paler than was healthy, and the area around her closed eyes was nearly black from the bruises around them. He could see cut marks on her neck, cheeks and the one arm that had escaped the sheet covering the rest of her body. If it hadn’t been for the slow rising and falling of the sheet and the harsh wheezing coming from her painfully thin body, Harry would have assumed that she was dead. The Slytherin shuddered in horror and could only relax when Harry hugged him tightly, turning his face away from the sight on the hospital bed.

“Bellatrix used more than just her wand to inflict some of those wounds,” Harry growled as his hands rubbed Draco’s back.

“Yes, it seems that Rudolphus took her wand away to keep her from torturing Narcissa, per the Dark Lord’s commands, but he didn’t bother to check his wife for other weapons,” Severus said.

“How did you convince Lucius to let her go? I don’t imagine that he was all that keen on losing his wife and unborn child.”

Snape didn’t answer right away, and he wore a look of hard contemplation as he considered Harry’s rather intelligent question. “No, he wasn’t. I heard him speaking to the Dark Lord about replacing Draco as his heir with the unborn child if it was a boy.”

Stiffly, Draco pulled away from Harry’s comforting embrace and turned to stare at his godfather. “Do you think he really would have done that, Sev?”

“Draco, as much as it pains me to say this, yes, I do think your father would have made the new child his heir and put a bounty on your head if it was a boy.”

Draco nodded, biting his lower lip as he thought. “Then, no matter what, Lucius can never find out that Mother and the child still live.”

“I doubt Lucius will find out. I took great pains to make it appear that Narcissa died from your aunt’s torture.”

“How?” Harry asked. Snape narrowed his dark eyes at Harry before answering.

“I brewed a Necrotosis potion. It mimics the effect of death, while the imbiber still lives. It is much more believable than the Draught of Living Death, which only puts the imbiber into a magical coma. Then, I cast a Stasis spell on her body so she would not need to breathe.” The Potions Master sat down in the chair next to Narcissa’s bed and stroked her free arm, ignoring the two boys in the room with him. “Then, I had Lucius come in and view the ‘body’. He was upset, no doubt due to the loss of a more acceptable heir, and told me to take care of it. I had my house-elf, Caddy, take Narcissa back to Spinner’s End while I Transfigured a rock to serve as a copy of her corpse. That was what I gave to Lucius to burn.”

“So, as far as the rest of the Death Eaters and Voldemort know, Narcissa is dead and the baby died with her,” Harry said.

“Indeed.”

“And you brought her here because you couldn’t keep her alive?”

“Potter,” Snape started with a razor-sharp edge to his smooth voice, “while you may think that I am perfect with all areas of spell-casting, I must inform you that I am sadly deficient in the Healing Arts. However, Poppy Pomfrey is the best mediwitch in my acquaintance. That is why I brought Narcissa here.”

Draco pulled on Harry’s arm to keep him from saying anything back. “Thank you for all your help, Sev.”

“You know why I have done this, Draco. Do not thank me.” Draco pulled out of Harry’s arms to place a kiss on his mother’s forehead before giving another brief hug to Snape before he turned and took Harry out into the hall.

When Draco said nothing for a long time, Harry had to break the silence. “What did he mean, Draco?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sighed as she walked down to the Gryffindor common room. She was supposed to return to St. Mungo’s with Professor Swanly so that she could check on her mother’s condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. She just couldn’t shake off the feeling that things would never be the same again. Things between Ron and Harry had shifted so much that there was no way for her to try and repair the rift, not unless the boys themselves decided to be friends again, and with the way things were looking, that wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“’Mione,” Ron said from his spot on one of the couches before a roaring fireplace. She jumped in surprise. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where are you headed?”

“Oh, Ron, well, I’m going down to breakfast and then after that, Professor Swanly is escorting me to St. Mungo’s so that I can check on my mum.”

“Yeah? I meant to ask you about her yesterday, but I didn’t see you after I checked on Percy.”

“Oh, she’s fine… Well, as good as anyone can be after that kind of thing, I guess. She was talking about going home almost as soon as I saw her, but the Healers managed to convince her to stay there for a few days of observation.”

“What about your dad?” Ron asked, seeming to be really interested.

She frowned and shook her head, indicating that she didn’t want to talk about her father’s murder.

Ron, in a rare moment of gallantry, nodded, then stood up and walked over to her, a look of sympathy crossing his handsome face. “I’ll walk you down to breakfast, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, of course,” Hermione answered, taking his offered arm. “How is Percy?”

“He’s alright, I guess. Mum was nearly hysterical when she saw him. He’s got some pretty bad cuts on his arms and a few burns, but the Healers say that he’ll heal nicely and that it shouldn’t take more than a few days before he’s back at work, annoying the hell out of the rest of the Ministry.”

“Well, I’m sure that Molly appreciates the fact that Percy wasn’t harmed any further than that,” she said. She was unsure of what Ron was trying to do. The last few times they’d talked it hadn’t been pretty or even very comfortable for either one of them.

“Yeah, Mum was beside herself when the Healer told Perce that he could leave today. That’s where Mum and Dad are today. They’re getting Perce from the hospital and taking him back home.”

“Oh, so I suppose that he’s patched things up with everyone then?” This was news, and she was sure that Ginny would have told her if that had been the case.

“Nah, he hasn’t bothered to apologize about calling Harry a liar and bad influence and whatnot. He’s still being a bit of a berk about it all, to be honest, but Mum wouldn’t calm down until he agreed to come back to the Burrow, especially with Christmas so close.”

“Hm,” Hermione muttered, trying to get things straight in her racing mind. She was startled to look up and see the doors to the Great Hall looming before them. They’d made the trip from Gryffindor tower without any problems from the stairs or Peeves or any of the other students. “Have you seen Harry this morning?”

“No, he didn’t even bother to return to the tower last night,” Ron snarled, causing the girl to look up and catch the ugly look on his face. “Nev came slinking in late, nearly didn’t make it in time for curfew, but Harry didn’t show up.” He looked down at her with a hard expression. “I thought the three of you were together last night.”

“Oh, we were, but Neville walked me back to the tower. Harry and Draco had something to talk about, I gathered. Neville’s not really the type to be subtle, after all.”

“I doubt there was much talking going on between Harry and _Malfoy_ … I caught them making out while the git was in the hospital wing. Surprised that Madam Pomfrey didn’t come barging in to breaking it up.”

Hermione shook his arm off of her as she continued to stare at him. “Oh, Ron, what did you _do_?”

“What did I do? I didn’t do anything, Hermione. They were wrapped around each other like bloody _snakes_. What was I supposed to do when I see my best friend entangled with Malfoy like that?”

She shook in the face of his unreasonable anger and stepped up to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the obvious staring of the other students. _‘This is hardly the way I thought I’d be spending my Saturday morning,’_ she thought morosely.

“Well?” Ron was standing over the top of her, his face a very unflattering shade of red. “What was I supposed to _do_ , Hermione?” he yelled.

“You were supposed to support him and not give him grief, like you have been for the last four months,” she hissed, looking down at her plate as she felt heat rush to her face. “You weren’t supposed to accuse him of being a traitor, which I’m positive you did.” Her eyes shot up, promising him real trouble if he attempted to cut her off. “And I’m sure that you brought up Ginny as well. Am I wrong?” He had the decency to look embarrassed and didn’t say anything. “Well, now that you know the truth, perhaps you can get your head out of your arse.”

The surrounding Gryffindors all gasped in shock. Hermione _never_ cursed, but she didn’t care right then. She was so _mad._ If he said _anything,_ she’d get him with a Bat-Bogey Hex so awesome that it would put Ginny’s to shame. “You know what,” she whispered dangerously, a trick she’d learned from Professor Snape when he still taught at Hogwarts, “until you can manage to be a real friend, to both Harry _and_ me, I don’t want to speak to you.” She turned her back on him and tucked into her plate, not really feeling hungry but knowing she needed the fuel to get through the rest of her already stressful day.

However, she didn’t miss Ginny’s comment to her brother. “You’re an idiot, Ron, and you deserve every word Hermione said.”

Support from her only female friend vindicated Hermione’s anger at the redhead, and she smiled as she took a long sip from her goblet of pumpkin juice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco took a deep breath while trying to gain his bearings after the meeting he’d been dreading since he returned to Hogwarts. Even meeting Dumbledore the first night back hadn’t been as tense as the semi-truce between Severus and Harry in those few short moments. He shook his head as Harry began talking and blinked tired grey eyes to look at his boyfriend. “Hm?”

“What did he mean, Draco? Why did he protect your mother, if he didn’t do it for you?”

 _‘Oh, is that all,’_ Draco thought, feeling relief flooding his system. There had been many things that had been said that Harry could have taken the wrong way. If he was only questioning Severus’s reasons for helping his mother, then Draco was sure that the two most important men in his life could come to some sort of long term truce. “Severus and my mother have been friends since their time at Hogwarts together. Mother was two years ahead of him, but they were close. She was the one who introduced him to Lucius and to the Dark Lord. She regretted that deeply after she saw how your… mother’s death… affected him.”

“Why?” Harry asked, furrowing his brows in thought. “During fifth year, when Snape was supposed to be teaching me Occlumency, I saw a memory in the Pensieve. They were hardly friends.”

“You learned Occlumency from Severus?” Draco asked, a part of him feeling extremely jealous of the opportunity that Harry probably wasted. Although, as he thought about it, it was unlikely that Severus ever made the effort to actually _teach_ Harry. It didn’t make up for the fact that Draco had had to learn the skill from his very crazy and dangerous aunt.

“Not really…” Harry said with his face flushing. “That was probably the most civil conversation Snape and I ever had, to be honest.”

“I don’t doubt it.” The blond sneered for a moment. “Anyway, Severus never forgave himself for ‘failing Lily’, Mother once told me, and since then, she has tried to pull Lucius from the Dark Lord’s grasp.”

“Why?”

“Because she sympathizes with her friend’s unhappiness and grief,” Draco said, heaving a great sigh. “Also, Mother was never crazy about him anyway. She said he was a lunatic before his first defeat and has only gotten worse since.”

“She’s not that far off,” Harry said, taking one of Draco’s hands and playing with the fingers absently. “I’m sorry that your mother is ill, Draco,” he whispered.

“It’s hardly your fault, Harry,” Draco said quickly, trying to stop Harry before he began taking the blame for things that other people had done. He _knew_ his boyfriend had a tendency to want to save everyone from trouble. Hell, he’d exploited that trait in the other teen until their sixth year. But this was one thing that Harry had no claim to, and he wasn’t about to let him try. “My aunt is crazy and detests my mother. Rodolphus is too inclined to allow her to get her way, and I can only assume that it has gotten worse since she’s finally pregnant.”

“I know,” the black-haired teen whispered. “I know, Draco, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Harry, you can’t save everyone. I already told you this, but I’ll say it again, and keep saying it until it sticks in your thick skull. My mother made her decision to stay with my father, knowing what kind of man he’d become and where his loyalties were. She wanted to be with her husband, who I know she loves very much, for some unfathomable reason. I _tried_ to get her away, and she refused.” He sighed, moving a pale hand to stroke Harry’s strong jaw. “It makes me happy that you wish you could have prevented this, but she knew that this was a possibility.”

“Do you… do you wish you could have forced her to leave?”

Draco shrugged. _‘Wishes are for babies, Draco,’_ Lucius’s voice rang in his head. “Sometimes, you have to let others make their own decisions,” he said finally, amazed that his voice was so even as he spoke. “You, of all people, should know that, Harry.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the black-haired teen said, scrunching up his nose in thought. _‘Probably thinking about that worthless Weasel…’_ When Harry’s face smoothed out and broke out into a calm smile, Draco couldn’t help but return it, trying desperately to control the butterflies that were buzzing around in his stomach as he stared at his boyfriend. “How about we find Neville and try to work on Slughorn’s essay?”

“You mean the essay that I’ve already completed and that you and Longbottom have yet to start?” Draco teased with a slight smirk.

“That’d be the one.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ginny looked over at her brother as she and Luna sat in Gryffindor’s common room, watching him occasionally scratching things out on a list as they worked on their Transfiguration homework. He was without his usual crowd, but after the tongue-lashing he’d received from Hermione that morning at breakfast, she wasn’t really that surprised. Ron did _not_ take being embarrassed easily. However, now Ginny was worried what her brother was working on so diligently, since she was sure it wasn’t any kind of homework.

“Hey, Ron, what are you doing?” she asked after an hour of his grumbling and scratching.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

 _‘Oh, yes, that’s so helpful,’_ she thought sarcastically. She looked over at Luna, who was frowning. “Do you think I should contact Fred and George about this, Luna?” she whispered to her girlfriend, carefully making her voice so low that only Luna would hear her.

“There’s no telling what he’s got going on,” the blonde replied seriously. “It will probably happen over the holidays, considering we have less than a week before we all return home.”

“You’re right.” She stood up and grabbed the Ravenclaw’s hand. “Let’s go send them a letter now, before I forget.”

“You wouldn’t forget anyway, Ginny. He’s after Harry.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ginny replied as she and the other girl left the tower and headed in the direction of the Owlery. “Hopefully the twins can stop things before they get too ugly.”

TBC


	24. Interlude Two ~ Anything But Love

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

**Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

**Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! As always, I am indebted to Jamie for all of her hard work!! Another chapter of letters to break up the dreariness that is Hogwarts!

** Interlude Two – Anything But Love **

Perfidious Albion, Somerset, England, UK  
Sunday, December 22nd, 1997

My son,   
I cannot begin to tell you how angry I am with you for not returning for the Christmas holidays. I need not tell you how upset the Dark Lord is with you as well. You will return for the Easter holidays, or you shall find yourself suddenly penniless. Let your darling Potter support your expensive and ridiculous habits. With your mother dead and the hopes of another child gone, I am well within my rights to remarry and beget another heir. Keep that in mind, Draco Lucius.

You are a Malfoy, and we are obedient to the family. You are behaving as anything but, my darling son. Remember how wonderful the times teaching you proper behaviour were? I can make those seem like a vacation, Draco. I expect a favorable reply to this letter IMMEDIATELY.

Your irate father,   
Lucius Malfoy  
Head of the Noble Malfoy Family  
Lord Malfoy

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tonks Lodge, Dorsetshire, England, UK  
Tuesday, December 24th, 1997

Wotcher Harry!

Happy Christmas! Please extend my holiday wishes to my cousin and aunt. Remus told me that Narcissa is there at the school too, even if it's a secret, the Order had to be told that Lucius has lost his entire family. Mum's talked about maybe reconciling with Narcissa once all this over, if my aunt is willing to speak to her. Could you maybe speak to her about that? I don't know how your relationship is with Narcissa, but if it's bad, at least Draco might be able to talk to her, yeah?

Sorry to put a damper on your holidays. Enjoy! Mum and Dad send their regards to you and Cousin Draco, and Mum's even included a few Christmas snacks for the two of you to share. Don't worry, I checked them and they're safe. 'Course Mum said that I checked them a little too well. She may be right, since I ate a whole tray of biscuits she meant to send to the two of you.  Anyway, looking forward to seeing the two of you again soon.

Love,   
Tonks

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Burrow, Ottery-St. Catchpole  
Monday, December 23rd, 1997

Dear Harry,

I was so disappointed to hear that you wouldn't be coming over for Christmas this year. After a talk with Ginny, I understand why. Please extend my holiday wishes to Albus and Draco Malfoy. I'm sure that it must be hard for him to be so far from home, especially when he is caught between choosing his friend over his family. I heard about his mother, of course. I just feel so sorry for the poor dear. If there is anything that I can do, let me know.

I have included your gifts, of course, and there's something from Bill and Fleur coming as well. (Dear me that was surprising to find out. Evidently they are very serious and Arthur tells me that Bill is thinking about asking the girl to marry him. I'm not too happy about that, but she does make him happy, so I suppose I will just have to bear with it and play nice.) Charlie told us that he also has a gift for you that he sent along before he left Romania. I have no idea of what it is, but it should be different. Fred, George, Ron and Ginny all say that they've already sent your gifts. Please use caution when opening the gift from Fred and George, dear.

I hope to hear from you soon, my dear. Arthur sends his love as well.

Love,   
Molly Prewett-Weasley

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, 124 Diagon Alley, London, England, UK  
Monday, December 23rd, 1997

Dearest Harry and his new sidekick, Malfoy,

Happy Christmas, mate plus one! Mum's going nuts over the fact that you didn't return to the Burrow this year with Gin and Ron, but from what Gin's told us about Ron's behaviour, he's been a right git. Can't say that we blame you for not wanting to come and spend time with him.

\- Especially since Percy decided that he was going to finally return, Gred.

\- Too right, Forge. Perce returned and he and Bill ended up trading words a few hours before dinner the night before last. Mum and Dad were at their wit's end trying to separate them. Never seen Bill so furious, but then Perce has that way about him.

\- You're correct, my twin. So, how have you been this year, Harry? You haven't really been writing us and since we'd always relied on you for what little gossip goes on in the tower, we're bereft of any news.

\- Though, now that Gin's told us about her and Luna, we can see why you've been so tight-lipped. We're sorry about that, mate.

\- She did tell us about your new 'friendship' with Malfoy. How is our favorite ferret doing? Behaving himself nicely?

\- Tell us, Harry, _how_ is he?

\- Gred, that's a little personal, yeah? Not that I blame you for asking, mind. I'm right curious to know too, but I'm too much of a gentleman to ask. So, how _is_ he?

\- Anyway, Harry, Forge and I have to cut this letter a little short. Charlie's just got in and he's brought along a _friend_. Can't wait to see Perce's face go green when he realizes that Alex is really Alexander. Just thought we'd let you know you're not the only one dealing with that dilemma.

Well, our new favorite pair, do write back and let us know if we can help you at all with ickle Ronniekins. Really, anything.

Love,   
Forge and Gred

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Location Undisclosed, UK  
Tuesday, December 24th, 1997

Draco - I hope that I find yourself and your family well this holiday season. Beware. The Dark Lord and Lucius are extremely upset that you did not return for the break. They have made plans to give you the Mark, whether you wish it or not, during the spring break. If you do not stay at Hogwarts with Potter and Dumbledore, do NOT go to Malfoy Manor or any of the Malfoy properties. I would offer you Spinner's End, but as that is my potions lab, it would not be prudent to take your pregnant mother there. Keep a close eye on the other students. There have been new members to the ranks with children at the school, and they are not in Slytherin. I have yet to see a Gryffindor family join the ranks, but there is a certain Hufflepuff whose uncle has joined. ~ S

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Location Undisclosed, UK  
Tuesday, December 24th, 1997

Albus - I have found out that there have been ten new members to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. Young Draco and Potter are in danger from one of the students there. A certain Ravenclaw was inducted into the ranks just yesterday. His attitude is likely to make him attack either of the boys when he returns. I would have him watched very carefully. Also, Crabbe and Goyle have confirmed that Parkinson and Zabini showed up at Durmstrang a week after they disappeared from Beauxbatons. The Dark Lord is very upset with the two over the letter incident that forced them to escape France, especially since it leaves only Davis to do recruiting for him, and she's decidedly weak-willed. I have seen the Greengrass girls, and they are alive, but dirty and shaken. I've been giving them potions to keep them calm, but the Dark Lord is extremely impatient to have their uncle give him monetary support for his cause, something I understand that Michael Blueshanks is not likely to do. I don't know how much longer it will be before he starts to torture the girls.  ~ S

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Burrow, Ottery-St. Catchpole  
Tuesday, December 24th, 1997

Malfoy,

Happy Christmas. I hope that you aren't too upset about having to spend the holiday break at Hogwarts, but at least Harry's there, right? Please don't worry about Ron. The twins and I have a few plans to put into place if he decides to do anything to you or Harry when he returns. Please give my love to Harry, and don't get up to anything that I wouldn't.

Sincerely,   
Ginny Weasley

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Granger Residence, Manchester, Shropshire, England, UK  
December 26th, 1997

Dear Ronald,

Thank you for your very thoughtful gift. Be sure to extend my thanks to Ginny and your parents as well. To answer the question you asked me regarding our relationship… I don't know. Things have been strained between us since the beginning of the year, if we're honest with each other. It was only the fact that Harry fully pulled away from our friendship that made me stop to think about it.

I won't say that our friendship with Harry is what made our relationship work. That would be stupid. But, now that I look objectively at the last year, it was when Ginny and Harry broke up that the cracks began to show. We just chose to ignore it.

I want you to promise me that you'll sit down and actually think about how everything has progressed since that moment. Once you have an answer, I'll try to respond reasonably.

If I don't hear from you before we return to school, I hope that you enjoy the rest of your holidays and tell your family that I wish them well and that I wish I was there to spend time with them as well.

Love,   
Hermione

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Longbottom House, Lancashire, England, UK  
December 26th, 1997

Gin -

On the train, I overheard Ron whispering with Justin, Dean and Seamus about Harry and Draco. The conversation wasn't pleasant. Your brother is planning on seriously harming Draco because, somehow, he's gotten it into his mind that he's a spy for You Know Who. Gran says that I can't return to school any earlier than the 3rd and that I won't be travelling to Scotland any sooner than the Hogwarts Express can take me. Even though I can Apperate and Floo there as an adult, and I'm the rightful head of the Longbottom family now, she still treats me like a kid. It's kinda frustrating.

Oh, um, I know you're kinda friends with that Romilda Vane girl. Is there any way you can give me information about her? She's cute and I was going to ask her out on our next Hogsmeade weekend. Thanks.

Sincerely,   
Neville Longbottom  
Head of the Noble House of Longbottom

P.S. It was Gran’s insistence that I start signing my letters like this. I think it makes me sound like some pompous arse. What do you think?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lovegood House, Ottery-St. Catchpole  
December 27th, 1997

Dearest Hermione,

Happy Christmas. I hope that you are enjoying a wonderful time with your mother and grandparents and that you are managing to avoid all sorts of things that could be harmful, such as the Hinkly-Dinks that I've heard live in your area. Father assures me that they don't attack Muggles, but they are attracted to magic, so you might be in danger. I'm enclosing a book about magical creatures in your area. I look forward to seeing you when we return to school. Enjoy the rest of your vacation in France.

Sincerely,   
Luna Lovegood

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Perfidious Albion, Somersetshire, England, UK  
December 29th, 1997

Dear little Potty, do you still cry yourself to sleep when thinking about my stupid cousin? It was absolutely wonderful how torn your face looked as Sirius disappeared forever. It is a shame that you still haven't managed to actually use an Unforgivable successfully yet. I do so look forward to that day. As does my Master. Please forward my love to my darling nephew, if you would. Lucius was unkind and didn't let me send a note with his to Drakie! However, I felt wishing you a poisonous holiday season more important. Especially when I can make you do my petty errands for me.

Also, inform your master that his time is drawing to a close. I am anticipating meeting him face-to-face again.

Until next time, dearest baby Potter,   
Bellatrix Black-Lestrange

TBC


	25. Chapter Twenty-Two ~ I Can't Wait to Touch You

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, slash, gore

 **Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! As always, I am indebted to Jamie for all of her help! Enjoy the boys _finally_ getting together. *wink wink*.

** Chapter Twenty-Two - I Can't Wait To Touch You **

Draco hadn’t stayed at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays since fourth year and at that time the Triwizard tournament had been going on and there was the Yule Ball to look forward to. Now, however, the castle was practically a ghost town. In fact, he was pretty sure that the ratio of ghosts to mortals was radically in favour of the non-living. There were only two things that made it seem less lonely. His mother was safe and sound in the infirmary, recuperating at a good rate. And he was going to be able to spend his first Christmas with his new boyfriend, far away from Death Eaters and Lord Moldyshorts.

 Before Neville and Hermione had boarded the train to London, he’d been warned to still stay close to Harry and to watch the other students that were staying. He didn’t know _why_ they’d felt the need to warn him about that. The only students staying were a few younger Muggleborn Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. There was little to no chance that they were related to the Dark’s activities. However, Draco was far from stupid, and he was going to stick to his boyfriend’s side like glue.

“Harry,” he started as they walked from the gates at the edge of the grounds back to the castle proper, “I think you should stay with me for the entirety of the holidays. I don’t like the idea of you being alone up in Gryffindor tower.”

“I’m not alone, Draco. A few of the younger years have stayed, but, if it makes you happy, I will,” the black-haired wizard teased.

“What would make me happy would be us and Mother back at the Manor, sitting in front of the huge fireplace in the family drawing room,” Draco said morosely. “As that is not likely to happen _this_ year, having you in my room is the next best thing.” His breath caught in his throat when Harry flashed him a lopsided grin before leaning in to snog him soundly.

By the time they made it back inside, their faces were red from more than just the cold December winds.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville had second thoughts about leaving his two friends by themselves at the castle. He knew that Ron Weasley had something planned, but not what. The very fact that the redhead had been quiet since the Saturday before the term ended was enough to have the empath on high-alert. Sadly, he had no proof because every time he got near the other boy, Ron became quiet and stopped writing whatever it was he was working on. A discussion with Ginny had added to his hunch that he was up to something, so he’d made her promise to keep an eye on her brother during the Christmas holidays.

“As if you have to ask, Neville,” she’d answered while they were sitting together on the Hogwarts Express. “I’ve already written to Fred and George about how he’s been acting. I promise to write to you and Harry and Draco if he does anything that we’ll have to worry about.”

“He’s going to be very unhappy when Hermione’s mother surprises her with a trip to the French Riviera,” Luna had said airily. “In fact, he’s with some people who are adding to the Wrackspurts already crowding his brain. You should go check the last compartment, Neville.”

Giving his two friends a puzzled luck and a wry smile, Neville left the train compartment they were staying in and moved down the train like Luna had suggested. Through the window, he could see Ron talking with Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, until the redhead began to yell at the other boys.

“I don’t care if he and Harry have become friends! He’s not to be trusted. We all know that his dad’s You Know Who’s right-hand man. The only reason the little tosser even came back was so he could get close to Harry and hand him over to the Dark side. It’s only a matter of time before he strikes,” Ron finished, his face as red as his hair.

“If that’s the case,” Justin said when Ron had calmed a little, “why’d you leave them alone in the castle? I only saw two third years staying in Gryffindor and a handful in the other houses. There's no guarantee what Malfoy’ll get up to with no one around but Dumbledore and Slughorn for company.”

“My mum wouldn’t let me stay,” Ron muttered. “Ever since Perce was attacked, she’s been going on and on about having the entire family safe and sound at home.” Neville watched as the redhead sunk into his seat. “If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have let the Ferret anywhere near my friend.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing to it now,” Seamus answered. “Nev and Harry have become as thick as thieves with Malfoy, yeah? Nev’s always been kinda discerning who his friends are, because of his Gran, so there’s got to be something worthwhile about Malfoy, right?”

“I don’t know, Seamus,” Dean said, scratching the side of his head. “Malfoy’s been quiet and he, Harry and Neville have become close lately, but I agree with Ron that it’s too coincidental that he, out of all the Slytherins missing, returned. Who knows what’s going to happen now that we’re all gone?”

“Exactly!” Ron nodded, slapping the dark-skinned boy on his bony shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Dean. Now, do you want to hear my plan or not?” The other three boys nodded excitedly before leaning in to listen to the redhead whisper to them. Neville attempted to listen in, but they were speaking too low for the words to carry.

 _‘That’s just terrific,´_ he thought morosely as the train pulled up to the platform at King’s Cross Station. _‘Letters to Ginny and Harry it is then. At least Gin has the twins to help her keep an eye on Ron.’_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione watched as the Weasleys left en masse, Ron still scowling, as he’d been doing since her mother told her about going to France with her paternal grandmother. When he’d asked if he could write her during the break, she’d agreed, but now she wondered if that was such a good idea. Luna had also said that she would write, and the bushy head girl could only say that she would respond back if she got a missive. The blonde had given her one of her creepy smiles before she and her father disappeared from sight.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” her mother asked, leaning heavily on her grandfather’s arm. She was still a little weak after the attack, but she was healing nicely and the Healers at St. Mungo’s had said that a vacation out of town would do a world of wonder.

“Not really, Mum,” she answered with a strained smile. “Just worried about Harry and Draco, I suppose.”

“Well, I’m sure that they will be fine at school over the break.” She patted Hermione’s arm affectionately. “Now, let’s get back home. I’m sure your grandmothers are about ready to tear into one another. Papa was unwilling to leave them alone together, but neither wanted to take the trip into London.”

“Yes, well, Abigail said that she’d be coming to town over her dead body,” her grandfather replied happily. “And since I’m still fond of the old girl, I figured it would just have to be me and you, Charlotte.”

“Yes, Papa.” Her mother held out her other arm for Hermione to take, which she willingly did. “Now, when we get home, we can pack and then tomorrow we’re off to France!”

The young woman _tried_ to catch her mother’s enthusiasm, but there was something gnawing at the back of her mind about this whole holiday break, and it wasn’t just the recent murder of her father. Something was going to happen. Something bad.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was after lunch time at the castle, and Harry was allowing Draco to drag him up to Gryffindor tower to pack his meager belongings for the rest of break. When he whispered the password to the Fat Lady, “Victorious Lion”, he pulled the blond into the common room and watched him flinch.

“How can you have stayed in this abominable place for seven years, Harry?” Draco asked with a sneer.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “It’s the first place that’s actually ever felt right to me. When I first entered the tower, it was like coming home for the first time.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to explain, but I hardly notice the décor anymore, Draco.”

“Lucky you,” the blond drawled, crossing his arms and following Harry up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. “I will be endeavouring to forget every second in this place.”

Harry smiled seductively as they reached the door to the room he shared with his yearmates and pulled the blond in. “Every second?” he whispered lowly, his smile growing when his boyfriend trembled against him.

“Well, perhaps not _every_ second,” was the answer he received before crushing his lips against the other boy’s. He deepened the kiss when he felt Draco’s arms wrap around his neck and duck-walked towards the nearest bed. “Harry, I thought we were going to wait until we got back to the Slytherin dorms to do this,” Draco said when Harry’d moved on to leaving his mark on the pale column of the blond’s throat.

“Can’t wait,” he replied, rubbing his erection against Draco’s thigh, dragging a moan out of the both of them. “Need you now. Too much teasing.” He pulled back and pushed his boyfriend down against the crimson duvet, hastily undoing buttons and the snap on Draco’s trousers before pulling the offending fabric away. Once he had the blond down to his pants only, Harry took a hard, long look at the pale, toned skin in front of him and licked his lips in anticipation. “So bloody sexy.”

“Har-ry,” Draco pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. The black-haired wizard leaned over the top of him and nibbled at the soft flesh and Draco moaned in response as he rubbed his body against the rough fabric of Harry’s denim trousers and t-shirt. “More,” he whispered, hands reaching up to remove Harry’s glasses and tossing them away without a care.

Harry couldn’t remember how his clothes were removed, but the next thing he recalled was the feel of Draco’s very warm, smooth hand on his cock, pumping furiously, as he returned the favour. The blond under him was making delicious mewling noises as they wanked each other off, and he had to smother them with deep, bruises kisses so that no one would try to open the door they’d both forgot to lock.

The familiar tightening began in his balls and he licked Draco’s lips before pulling away, panting heavily. “Gonna come, Draco,” he said. The blond nodded absently, his grip on Harry’s cock becoming almost unbearable as he ran his thumb up and down the heavy pulsing vein on the underside and squeezing. “Fuck,” Harry swore as he leaned down and bit his lover on his shoulder while climaxing violently.

Draco shuddered in response as his own cock pulsed, shooting out sticky fluid that covered both of their chests and groins, and Harry collapsed bonelessly on top of him. The blond grunted before wrapping both of his arms around the boy above him. “We should _really_ do that again,” he said quietly.

“Maybe next time we’ll even make it to your room before I have to have you,” Harry responded with a brief chuckle before he looked around. “Where are my glasses, Draco?”

“ _Accio Harry’s glasses_ ,” the blond said, holding out his hand so they could smack into it, instead of the side of Harry’s head. He then handed them over.

The dark-haired wizard took his glasses gratefully, putting them on. That was when he noticed where they’d ended up exactly. “Um, Draco,” he started, but was interrupted by a tapping on the dorm room’s window. With a sigh, Harry extracted himself from the warm cocoon of Draco’s fine, lean limbs and made his way over, making sure to shake his naked arse a little.

“Who’s it from, Harry?” Draco asked from behind him.

“Dunno. I don’t recognize the owl,” he answered as he opened the window and the bird flew in. It hastily dropped the letter on Dean’s bed before shooting back out of the window. “Well, it must have been in a hurry,” he muttered as he picked up the letter.

“Don’t open it!” Draco shouted, jumping up with his hawthorn wand in hand. “It could be anything!”

“It could,” Harry said, his hand hovering over the parchment. “Except that’s Neville’s handwriting.”

“Longbottom?”

“Yes, our friend, Neville. Do you know any others?”

“No,” Draco snapped, using his wand to cast a cleaning spell on himself. Harry gave him a brief kiss before turning his attention back to the letter. When he was done, he’d crumpled the parchment into a little ball and he was frowning thoughtfully. “What did it say, Harry?”

“Nev’s warning us about Ron doing something over break.”

“What’s Weasley going to do while he’s back at his hovel and we’re here at the castle?”

“I don’t know, but if Nev’s worried enough to send this letter, I suppose we’d better keep our guard up.” Harry picked his wand up out of his jeans pocket and incinerated the letter before casting his own cleaning charm. “Well, at least I don’t feel guilty anymore.”

“Guilty about what?” Draco asked as he started to grudgingly pull his clothes back on.

“That was Ron’s bed we just wanked on.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“ _Crucio!_ ” Voldemort yelled, watching as Lucius screamed at his feet. His other servants stood in the loose circle around him and the blond, watching in absolute silence, aside from Bellatrix, who seemed to be cooing to her brother-in-law. After a long, sweet minute, he released the curse and watched as his proudest servant twitched on the ground. “You have disappointed me, Lucius. First, you allowed Narcissa and her unborn child to die. Now, your son has failed to come back from Hogwarts. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he was aware of what we had planned for him.”

“I-I d-didn’t t-tell him anything, M-my Lord,” Lucius stuttered.

The Dark Lord responded by kicking the man. “I did not tell you to speak, Luciussssssssss,” he hissed in irritation. “You will write to young Draco and demand that he return home for Eassster. I believe I am being mosssst fair in thisssssss matter, don’t you?”

“Yes, My Lord,” his servant answered.

Voldemort waved one spidery hand, allowing Crabbe and Goyle to help the tall, blond up from the ground. “Ssssseverussss, how doessss your potion for me procccccceed?”

The lanky, dark man stepped forward, kneeling before him and kissed the hem of his robes. “It goes as planned. I only require the last item, My Lord.”

“Yesssss, that will be tricky,” Voldemort said, tapping a finger against his lipless mouth. “Travers, Yaxley, Mulciber, Rowle and Alecto, you five will go ssssearch for me. I require a new Philossssspher’s Sssstone.”

TBC


	26. Chapter Twenty-Three ~ Just to Hurt You

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros, and some other companies that are NOT me. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

 **Warnings:** Angst, language, OOC, 7th year timeline based upon OotP – Disregarding HBP and DH, implied slash, Ron-bashing

 **Author’s Notes** : Many thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far! As always, I am indebted to Jokes for all of her help! Also, just a warning, this chapter is going to offend anyone who is still a fan of Ron for this story. Sorry. It’s completely his fault this time!

** Chapter Twenty-Three – Just to Hurt You **

Ginny looked over and George and Fred as they watched their brother Ron write out what could only be a letter. They still couldn’t tell what he’d been doing for the last two days since they’d returned from Hogwarts. Her anxiety had reached new heights when Neville had sent her that letter about what happened on the train home. “Alright, you two, what are we going to do?” she asked, shoving her hair behind her ears, an obvious sign of her frustration.

“Well, we could intercept the letter after he sends it,” George offered.

“Or, we could tackle him to the ground before he has a chance to attach it to Pig’s leg,” Fred added.

“We could always give him a sound thrashing on pure principle,” George said.

“That’s always a good plan,” Fred said, smiling impishly.

“Not helpful though,” Ginny said. “We all know that whatever he’s doing it’s to do with Harry and Malfoy.”

“Well, obviously,” the twins chorused. “I heard him talking to Seamus about putting Malfoy in his place,” Fred said, frowning.

“Yeah, and he told that Hufflepuff Justin that Harry needs to learn a lesson about mucking about in other people’s relationships,” George added, mirroring his twin’s facial expression.

Ginny huffed. “None of this is helping us,” she said, looking back at her other brother as he continued to scratch out words on the parchment he’d been working on steadily. “I’m worried about how his relationships with Harry and Hermione will suffer because he’s being a prat.”

“Well, Gin, really, there’s not much you can do to help him if he’s determined to have it all fall down around his ears, you know,” Fred said, patting her on the shoulder.

“I know, but he’s just being so _stupid_ ,” she whispered heatedly. “Malfoy’s not out to hurt Harry. If anything, he’s doing a better job of watching his back than the rest of us could have imagined. I swear he doesn’t even let Harry out of his sight if he can help it.”

“Well, it’s nice to know that we’re leaving our adopted brother in good hands,” George said.

“Speaking of, we should write the two a letter,” Fred said excitedly.

“Yes, let’s,” George crowed, running to their old room quickly.

“Don’t tease them too badly,” Ginny called after them, knowing it was an exercise in futility. Now, if only she had any idea what to do about Ron…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco patted the hand that he held as he sat next to his mother’s bed. She had yet to wake up, and Christmas was only two days away. The bruises and cuts she’d been covered in the first day had healed nicely, allowing her to resemble the woman that Draco remembered seeing before the summer between fourth and fifth years. It was only the laboured breathing that shattered his little bubble of denial. “Mother, I have much to tell you,” he whispered sadly. “How I wish you would wake up so that I could talk to you about Harry.

“He’s nothing like I imagined.” A small smile broke out on Draco’s face, softening his sadness a bit. “He’s smart and funny. He stood up for me when the other students were all against me, and he and Neville—Longbottom, that is—are some of the best people I’ve met.”

He listened to Narcissa’s breathing and the smile died. “Harry even made nice with Severus when he brought you here.” A tiny bit of hysteria crept up and Draco had to fight it down. “Mother, I don’t know what to do. Father has demanded that I return home for Easter holidays, and I know that he will want for me to take the Dark Mark. I don’t want to become a Death Eater or fight against Harry. I-I think I love him, Mother. Father will probably kill me when he finds out that I am _seeing_ Harry Potter, but I don’t care.”

The silence stretched out before Draco, making him feel small and insignificant. “I’m terribly frightened, Mother, more so than when Father, Aunt Bella and Voldemort returned to our house. It feels as if I’m just waiting for something to happen to either my father or my boyfriend. Now that you and my unborn sibling are safe, I can breathe easier on that front. However, I know that I shall still lose someone that I care for by the end of everything.

“Uncle Severus is playing an even more dangerous game than I am. I only hope that he can help Daphne and Astoria. They don’t deserve what’s happening to them.”

A sudden pressure on his hand made him focus on his mother’s face, which was scrunched up in pain. “What is it? Do I need to call Madam Pomfrey?”

“Dra…co…” Narcissa whispered harshly, struggling to open her eyes. “Where…”

“Shh, Mother, relax,” Draco answered happily. “You’re at Hogwarts, in the hospital wing. You’re very ill. Let me call the Mediwitch and she can take a look at you.” He let go of her hand and ran to Madam Pomfrey’s office. “Madam, my mother is awake now!”

“Oh, dear, that’s so good to hear,” the school nurse said with a bright smile. “Now, I’ll need you to stay out of the way so that I can run my tests.”

Draco watched with an intense ache in his chest as the woman cast spell after spell on his mother and a quill took notes beside her. It seemed like it took forever before it was over and the Mediwitch was consulting the parchment. After a few “hms” and “ahs”, the witch smiled again. This one seemed a little more sympathetic than her previous one. “Well, Draco, your mother and unborn sibling are well, considering her condition when Severus brought her in a few days ago.”

“How long before she can be moved to a private room out of the hospital wing?” Draco asked calmly, surprised at how smooth he sounded.

“Well, that is for Professor Dumbledore to determine,” Madam Pomfrey said carefully. “Your mother is still weak from the damage, and it will be a few days before I’d even consider letting her walk around the infirmary, but I can imagine that she will be awake and ready to talk sometime in the morning. My suggestion is that you head down to dinner and tell Mr. Potter your good news.” The woman gave him a conspiratorial wink. “I will even allow the two of you sit with her in the morning, if she’s feeling up to it.”

“I want to stay,” he demanded, still uneasy about leaving his mother alone when this was the first sign of her recovery.

“I think not, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother is a very ill woman and needs more rest. You have been here all morning and afternoon.” Pomfrey folded her arms across her ample chest, and Draco felt the desire to shrink back from the diminutive woman’s animosity. “I indulged you because it is Christmas Eve, but you _will_ go eat dinner with the rest of the group and spend time with your friend. I will _not_ have you underfoot all evening. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he snarled angrily. He couldn’t believe how easily she had cowed him, and he didn’t like it. One bit.

“Don’t be like that, Draco,” Pomfrey said kindly, patting his arm. “As I said, they’re fine now. Narcissa is likely to do nothing but sleep until morning. Besides, it _is_ Christmas Eve, and I’m sure that Harry would like to spend some time with you.” She gave him a fresh smile. “I would also watch out for any mysterious mistletoe around the castle. Just in case.”

Although not completely happy with the situation, Draco did see the logic in her argument. He _was_ hungry. He _did_ miss Harry. This was their _first_ holiday as a _couple_ and he was contemplating spending it with his sleeping mother. Instead of shagging like demented rabbits, as he’d had planned before Severus had shown up with Narcissa. “You win, Madam, but Harry and I _shall_ return in the morning. Make no mistake of that.”

“I await your arrival with bated breath,” she teased, casting a few more testing spells on his mother’s softly slumbering form. “And don’t worry. Should something happen, I will alert you immediately.”

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, turning around and leaving the infirmary with a lighter heart. For the first time since he received Severus’s letter about his mother’s condition—no, for the first time since he heard that his mother and aunt were both pregnant—Draco felt like he could breathe. They were _really_ safe this time. The only thing that would make everything perfect was Voldemort’s defeat and the imprisonment of Lucius.

 _One thing at a time,_ he thought as he sped through the halls of Hogwarts towards the Great Hall and his boyfriend.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked up as Draco entered the Great Hall and took the seat next to him. It was Christmas Eve, and the blond looked positively _radiant_. He cocked his head to study the man beside him to figure out what it was exactly that was so different. The Slytherin’s face was a passive, expressionless mask. His posture was its usual, unnatural, backer-board straight. But the gleam in his lovely silver eyes was gleeful. _Something good must have happened. Is it his mother?_

“Draco?” he whispered, taking the blond’s hand under the table, ignoring the stare from a heavy pair of twinkling blue eyes protected behind half-moon spectacles. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you after dinner, Harry,” Draco replied coolly before beginning to eat daintily.

Harry watched him for a few minutes, enjoying watching Draco savour every bite. It was practically sexual the way the blond placed the food in his mouth and closed his eyes as he chewed slowly. It wasn’t until he was caught by the object of his infatuation that Harry turned to his own food, face burning in embarrassment. He didn’t have to see the pleased grin that Draco wore. It was enough that one of the blond’s long-fingered hands slipped to his thigh and squeezed it gently before disappearing again.

No sooner was pudding finished than Draco was practically dragging Harry out of the Great Hall towards the Slytherin dorms. He debated asking his boyfriend what was wrong, but figured it would be pointless until they were alone. When they were back in the dark-coloured common room, Draco turned his happy, smiling face towards Harry, and the Gryffindor found it hard to breathe. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” he croaked after they’d stared at one another for a few long, tense minutes.

“She’s awake, Harry,” Draco said calmly. The way he held himself as if he was going to break apart any second gave away his anxiety, to Harry at least, but he was _almost_ the same boy/man he’d met earlier that year in an abandoned classroom after having a run-in with his ex-girlfriend.

“That’s brilliant,” Harry replied, wrapping his arms around his lover. “Did you get to talk to her?”

“Not much,” Draco mumbled into his shoulder as he wrapped slim arms around Harry’s waist. “Madam Pomfrey said that we could see her in the morning.”

“Christmas morning?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, Christmas morning,” Draco said with a happy sigh. They stayed like that, holding onto each other, thinking about the great news they’d received. It could have been two seconds and it would have still felt like forever, but it was the blond who pulled back a little to look at Harry directly in the eye first. “Shall I give you your present now, or do you want to wait until the morning?”

Harry blinked, absorbing the double meaning in Draco’s seductive purr and the heavy-lidded, lust-blown pupils. “Now,” he rasped, not caring what it was really. He knew he was going to enjoy whatever it was that Draco had in mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**_ BOY WHO LIVED TAKES UP WITH DEATH EATER’S SON?  
_ ** _by Rita Skeeter_

_Recent sources have brought to light a curious fact about Harry Potter, one that sheds a certain amount of doubt on his suitability as the so-called Chosen One. In spite of having been in a relationship recently with the beautiful Ginevra Weasley and, previously, the exotic Cho Chang, it seems that the Boy Who Lived doesn’t actually have any interest in the ladies at all._

_Or does he?_

_It’s entirely possible that the situation isn’t quite what it seems. Why, you ask yourselves? Because his new beau is none other than Draco Malfoy, one of few Slytherin students who returned to Hogwarts during the most recent term, and son of a man who once claimed_ Imperius _at his trial only to later go on and murder innocent Wizarding folk in full view of several witnesses. How far does the apple fall from the tree in this case? Did the younger Malfoy follow in his father’s footsteps? Is he leading the too innocent Boy Who Lived into a trap that will be his undoing? Is he, perhaps, the cause of the rift in the romance between Ginevra Weasley and Harry Potter, once thought to be a perfect couple?_

_Or is that wrong? Perhaps the young Tri-Wizard champion has a plan of his own. Perhaps, it’s not the young Malfoy controlling the situation at all and Harry Potter fully intends to take the Malfoy family in hand through its scion? It’s not outside the realm of possibility for the Boy Who Lived to want to take charge of such a powerful political opponent after all._

_Unfortunately, there is no way to tell. Worse, even if there was, there is nothing any of us could do about it given their current location. Hogwarts, in spite of the numerous bad choices of its Headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, is still one of the most secure places in Wizarding Britain. A summary of the bad choices in question can be outlined on page five, including the situation with the werewolf four years ago, the bad choice that was having a false Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody as a teacher three years ago, and some answers to questions posed by readers over the appointment of Severus Snape as a permanent teacher sixteen years ago._

_So many mistakes can only lead this humble reporter to one conclusion: our young hero is on his own._

_Good luck, Harry Potter; you’ll need it._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ron took the Christmas edition of the _Daily Prophet_ from Errol before he could crash into the back kitchen window and gave him a piece of a roll from dinner the night before. Looking over the front article, he couldn’t help but smile at the image of Harry as he tried to duck the camera. Skeeter was still useful, especially if the article allowed her to out Harry, malign a prat like Malfoy, and make digs at Dumbledore’s reputation. All one needed was an allusion to her unregistered Animagus status.

If his former best mate wanted to sabotage his relationship with Hermione, well, then he was just going to have to deal with the fact that the _entire_ Wizarding world now knew he was shagging Malfoy, including Malfoy’s prissy-arse father. That would teach that prat about sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

With a satisfied sigh, Ron carefully set the paper on the kitchen table for everyone to see and headed back up to his room. _Good luck indeed, Potter,_ he thought viciously as he checked and double-checked to make sure that the twins and Ginny hadn’t left any presents for him while he was downstairs. When his door came up clean, he entered his room, ready for a few more hours of sleep before the shit hit the farm.

_Hm, that doesn’t make any sense. I think I might have heard that saying wrong. I’ll have to ask Dean or Justin about it when we get back to school for spring term._

With a shrug, he crawled into his bed, pulling the orange duvet all the way up to his nose. It wasn’t until it was too late that he realised that there was something wrong about his bed. It felt as if it was moving, entirely too…fuzzy?

Slowly, he pulled his comforter down and leaned over to look at the dark spots on his sheets. He was close and felt his skin beginning to pebble in fear. Everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by spiders. Furry, multi-eyed, eight-legged monsters of all sizes, shapes, and colours...

With no mind to dignity or sleeping family members, he let out a shriek so girly that the twins, who’d been waiting on the landing under Ron’s after he’d headed upstairs, thought they’d gotten Fleur at first. It was when they saw Ginny, Fleur, the rest of their brothers, and their parents all looking at them that they finally caved in and laughed until they cried.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Warmth, he was surrounded by warmth. And darkness. But, wait, that was because he was still held tightly in the grip of a wonderful dream. Surely that was the only reason that he would be experiencing such delicious pleasure. _No way would I be able to wake up to this,_ Harry thought morosely, his eyelids fluttering with a _very_ exciting pull on his cock. Another strange feeling, a vibration that went straight through his erection and travelled all the way to his toes, had him moaning. His eyes flew open and he moaned again.

Looking down his body, he could see a suspicious lump above his groin that was slowly bobbing up and down. _Dear Merlin, is he really…Oh, yes, that feels…_ “Draco,” he crooned after a decidedly pleasurable suck. “Draco, _yessssss_ …”

Without warning, the duvet flew up and Draco stopped what he was doing, making Harry groan in disappointment. “Happy Christmas, Harry,” the blond rasped, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his patrician face.

“It _was_ happy, until you stopped, you bloody prat,” Harry griped, pulling Draco down to give him a hard, punishing kiss. He was rewarded with a little squeak of surprise from the other boy before he moaned lustily into Harry’s mouth. Harry was _sure_ he could taste something slightly bitter on Draco’s tongue, and it took him a few moments to realise that he was tasting _himself_ from his lover. When they were both panting, Harry allowed Draco to turn his head so they could breathe. “Now, what was that about? Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

“I wanted to try it.” Harry could feel heat on the shoulder Draco was resting against, and he knew right away that the blond was blushing. “Blaise was always bragging about how great it feels to give _and_ receive.”

“Yes, they’re great to receive, but I don’t know about giving,” Harry murmured as he ran a hand through dishevelled blond locks. “I’ve never done that myself.”

“Who gave you—”

“You don’t want me to answer that, Draco.”

“Oh,” Draco responded flatly, trying to push himself off of Harry’s body. Dull, lifeless grey eyes pinned the black-haired teen when he refused to let his lover go.

“We never…you know,” Harry said, blushing in discomfort. “It was only a few times, but since our relationship didn’t last that long, we never did anything… _more._ ”

“So, you’re a…”

“Virgin? Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” Draco said, wrapping his lean arms around Harry’s neck possessively before he began rubbing his long body against Harry’s. Their erections touched, sending a bolt of electricity up and down Harry’s spine as he bucked his hips up to regain the sensation. “What do you want me to do now, Potter?”

“Want to fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry said with a moan. “Fucking cock tease.”

Draco smiled down at him, looking very happy—and pleased with himself—when a tapping against the enchanted window drew both boys’ attention. “Fuck, I am going to have to tell Sev that his timing stinks.”

Harry dropped his arms to the bed with a litany of curses in his head. _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Every goddamn time Draco and I get anywhere close to fucking, fucking Snape has to send a fucking letter and ruin the moment. I’m going to skin his bloody arse the next time I see him. See if I don’t, you sadistic dickwad!_

He could hear it as Draco made his way to the window and let out a horrified gasp. Instantly, he was upright and dashing to his lover’s side. “What is it?” he asked. He should have saved his breath. In Draco’s hand was a copy of the day’s _Daily Prophet_ , his face gracing the front page, above the fold, with the headline screaming about their relationship. Then he caught the by-line. “I’ll fucking kill her!”

Draco dropped the paper as a flurry of owls swooped in through the open window, each one clutching a dreaded, familiar red envelope. “Oh, Merlin,” he whimpered.

The two boys stood in horror as the birds released the Howlers on the floor in front of them before turning back around and flying out the window. One by one, the envelopes opened and the shouting began. Harry looked over at Draco as each new attack on their relationship started, watching as the blond’s face grew more and more withdrawn and expressionless, and the mischievous gleam in his eyes faded until they were nothing more than dull slate in colour.

With a snarl, Harry grasped Draco’s arms, turning his lover to face him. “I don’t care what they say, Draco. They’re idiots. You’ve not put me under some stupid spell or love potion or mind control artefact or whatever rubbish they’re all spouting. Don’t listen to a single word of their stupid, mindless ranting.” He could see two spots of colour returning to Draco’s pale face and his eyes taking on a more silvery shade. “They know nothing about our relationship, and they can all fuck themselves for all I care.”

“You know who’s responsible, don’t you, Harry?” Draco asked after the last Howler tore itself into tiny, smoking bits.

“Yeah, I do. It was Ron.”

TBC


	27. Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Not Okay With All Right

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1.

 **Author’s Notes** : Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! Jokes, darling, you’re the best! Also, I’d like to apologise for the length of time that it took for this chapter to come out. Writer’s Block plus a writing frenzy for _Wooing the Reluctant_ equals no work on this story or _Here But For the Grace of Merlin_ for a long time. Trust me, it was annoying.

** Chapter Twenty-Four —Not Okay With All Right **

Dumbledore bit back a sigh as he watched Harry’s progress up the staircase to his office. Since the outing of his and Mr Malfoy’s relationship three days ago, both boys had been quiet and withdrawn from the limited group of people that had stayed at Hogwarts over the holiday season. A few times since then, Dumbledore had found his young protégé in the library—pouring over his homework—or with Draco Malfoy as the blond called upon his recuperating mother in the infirmary.

Harry wasn’t like he was during fifth year, thankfully. His anger was _quite_ justified in this instance—not that Albus was going to deny that Harry should have been angry about the deaths of both Cedric Diggory and Sirius Black. It felt as though this time it was so much worse than the previous times, however.  Every morning, he and Draco received huge amounts of mail—so much so that the remaining professors were having difficulty keeping up. Even banishing the Howlers sent had only lessened the great amounts very little. That was part of the reason that he had called the young man to come see him privately while Draco sat with Narcissa on New Year’s Eve.

The other part had to do with the inevitable fight between the young man and Voldemort. It was time that Dumbledore explained a few things he had discovered in the last few months while Harry and Draco became friends—and more. He also wished to discuss Draco’s situation with the Death Eaters now that the information about his relationship had come to light.

There was a final thing that he wished to discuss with Harry, but as of yet, the headmaster was still at a loss as to how to address it.

A loud knock on his office door startled the old wizard from his brooding thoughts and he quickly forced himself back into the here and now. “Come in, my dear boy,” he said miserably, giving Harry a sad smile as the boy walked through the office door.  “Please, sit down. Lemon sherbet?” he offered, trying to make this meeting no different than their previous sessions.

Harry shook his head vehemently as he crossed the room. “You wished to talk to me, sir?” the boy asked as he sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs before the headmaster’s desk.

“Yes, Harry, I did,” Albus responded. “Would you like some tea before we begin? We have a lot to discuss in a short amount of time, so perhaps refreshment might be in order before we grow too serious.”

He watched as Harry’s normally warm green eyes narrowed in examination. Albus made it a point to make sure that his face was as open as humanly possible. It would have been too much effort to attempt to hide his weariness from Harry on this day. “Yes, please,” he said after a few moments of pregnant silence.

“There are a few things that we need to go over, but I will start with the niceties first,” the headmaster said cordially as he set about conjuring a tea service, complete with chocolate covered biscuits. “How is the Malfoy family faring?”

“Narcissa’s recovering pretty nicely,” Harry answered as he took his cup of tea. “Madam Pomfrey assures us all that the baby is doing well also. Draco, of course, is happy to hear that they’re doing well. He says that once Narcissa can actually sit up, they’ll exchange Christmas gifts. It’s the situation with Ron that he’s having issues with. You’d think it was him that had a friend turn against...” Harry paused. “I just remembered the thing with Parkinson and Zabini. Ugh.”

“I’m surprised that he finds Ronald’s action so devastating. Their animosity is almost as famous as the formal rivalry between yourself and Draco.”

“I don’t think it’s so much as Ron did that to him, but that my supposed best friend would throw _me_ to the wolves like that,” Harry growled.

“And how do you feel about this whole thing?”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he thought things over. “Well, to be honest, Ron and I haven’t really been friends since the beginning of the school year.” He gave another sigh—this one so big that Albus worried that the boy would actually begin crying. “He, uh, he’s too inflexible. Ron didn’t want to think that maybe you’d let Draco return for a reason that we weren’t allowed to know.”

“Ah, but you’ve known for a while now just why Draco returned to school this year,” Albus said. “Why did you not explain to him, as I’m sure you told Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom, what the situation was?”

“Because it would’ve required that Ron removed his head out of his arsehole long enough to listen to anything that any of us had to say,” Harry spat. “Sorry, Headmaster.”

“No need, my boy. I can understand how one’s best friend can drive one to distraction. Did you have any indication that Ronald would have done something like this?”

“Truthfully, I can’t tell you _what_ Ron’s capable of anymore. Course, I guess he’d say the same thing about me. I s’pose that we just outgrew each other, but I never _really_ thought that he’d run to Rita Skeeter with my private life so it could be splashed all over the front the _Daily Prophet_. Neville sent Draco and me a letter warning us to watch out, but this is something that neither of us foresaw.”

“I have spoken to Molly and Arthur recently and there is the option to refuse Ronald re-entry to Hogwarts.”

“Forget it. If that happened, the Wizarding world would just see it as you siding with me because I’m the Boy Who Lived, and it would increase Draco’s hate mail. He doesn’t need that.”

“That brings up the issue of the mail that has been arriving for you and Draco since this revelation,” Albus said as he poured himself another cup of tea. “I understand that the Howlers are arriving to you directly. Sadly, there is no way to intercept them before that happens. None have included anything _too_ outrageous, have they?”

Harry just _looked_ at him for a minute. “They’re _all_ outrageous, Headmaster. None of those judgemental pricks know a thing about the kind of person Draco is. They all think he’s some reincarnation of his father.”

“Much as you and Ronald Weasley thought of him before this year?” Albus asked with a small smile.

Harry had the decency to flush. “Yeah, well, we were _kids_. A lot of those Howlers are coming from adults,” he grumbled. “Besides, Skeeter didn’t help with her stupid article. It made me seem as if I was some poor imbecile that was just taken in by the big, bad Slytherin. Or was she trying to make me seem like some great redeemer of all the mislead Death Eaters? I couldn’t rightly tell.”

“That is beside the point at this time, I fear. What _would_ you like to happen to Ronald because of this situation?”

“I say let Mr and Mrs Weasley deal with it. Otherwise, it might show as favouritism. I could use a little less pressure on that front, thanks.”

“And you will be informing Draco of this then?”

“Yeah, I guess. As for the mail,” Harry said, showing his intelligence, “if it’s not from close friends or family, burn it. Draco and I are used to the rest of the crap and could stand to ignore it.”

Albus found himself nodding at the wisdom and maturity the young man was showing. “That is probably for the best. Now that those issues have been handled, as such, I am forced to bring up the main reason for this meeting.”

“Voldemort.”

Albus nodded.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You will have to forgive me, my son,” Narcissa said as she looked at Draco with her crystal clear blue eyes, her pretty mouth twisted into a moue of undisguised disgust. “I still find it difficult to believe that you and Mr Potter were able to set so many things to the side to be as… _intimate_ as you have become.”

Draco sighed inwardly at his mother’s obvious distaste at his choice of partner. He _knew_ that his father would not have been happy, but he had hoped that she would at least be a little more open, considering he was actually happy for once. “Mother, I have tried to explain this to you, but I will attempt again, if it will make you happy.”

“Yes, please do enlighten me, Draco,” she said tiredly. He watched as she rubbed at her belly where she was beginning to show and frowned again. “It is not that I am not displeased that you are happy. I can see that when Mr Potter is here with you. And it _does_ make how you obsessed over him in the past much easier to accept. I just cannot fathom how he has managed to overlook the animosity he has of your father long enough to have any sort of actual relationship, my Dragon.”

“I thought the same way, to be honest,” Draco answered eventually. “I wondered how on _Earth_ Harry was going to see me as Draco instead of as a facsimile of Father. It seems that he watched me all of last year, when I spent more time helping my housemates than torturing Gryffindors and trying to get him into trouble.” He could see his mother’s confusion still and continued to explain. “When I returned last year, after Father and the others returned to us,” he tried to tread carefully with this part because he didn’t know how his mother still felt about the rest of their family, “I was very worried about your safety, Mother. I didn’t walk around with Crabbe and Goyle or even Pansy and Blaise half as much. I did a lot of introspective thinking.”

“Yes, I remember that I thought you were maturing much more since you weren’t mentioning Potter quite as much as you had used to,” Narcissa said with a faint, but radiant smile. Draco could feel the tension in his shoulders releasing just a tiny bit. “I suppose I was half-right.”

“I ran into him when I first entered Hogwarts after being ordered by the Dark Lord and Father. He met me on my way to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. We had a few more run-ins after that, and I sadly was the only one around when he had one of his visions and—”

“So, the Dark Lord was not just being paranoid about Potter being in his head then?” Narcissa cut across him. If she hadn’t sounded so terrified, he would have been annoyed at her greatly.

“Yes, that’s true, but Dumbledore and Snape have both attempted to teach him Occlumency.”

“Can he Occlude, my son?”

“I haven’t actually checked, Mother, but I plan on rectifying that as soon as I can after this conversation. As I was saying, I took care of him after he had one of his visions and it appeared that we’d come to an unspoken truce from then on. We avoided one another as much as we could, considering we shared nearly every class since there are so few seventh years that returned.

“At the end of September, I was accosted by a group of Hufflepuffs from behind as I took a walk around the Black Lake. I made it to the library, which was safer for me than most of the school and is closer to the entrance than the hospital wing. Harry and Neville were there and would not let me leave on my own. They insisted on taking me to the infirmary, and since then it’s as if we have been friends since we began Hogwarts.”

“They have just _forgiven_ you for what you’ve done to them?” she asked incredulously.

“Mother, I had to apologise, of course,” Draco answered with a curl to his lips. “However, I would do it again if it meant that I could have Harry and the others by my side.”

Narcissa sighed. “And you _are_ happy, are you not, Draco?”

“Yes, Mother,” he said immediately.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. Now, explain to me what has been happening in the world outside of these walls since I arrived.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius paced back and forth as he fumed once again. He’d been like this for days—ever since the _Daily Prophet_ had run that wretched article about his son and Harry Potter being lovers. He had sent Draco a scathing letter, demanding that he denounce the Boy Who Lived as anything but the filthy, uncouth Half-blood he was and threatening disownment if he refused. He’d received no response.

The next day, he had found himself being punished by his Lord for disobedience where his son was concerned. Yet again, Lucius found himself being tortured because his son had stepped outside of the bonds of family and duty to fornicate with the enemy. Of course, he had written the letter that the Dark Lord had requested, adding in his own remarks about his thoughts about Draco’s behaviour and the consequences should he fail to return home for the Easter holidays.   

Surprisingly, Bellatrix had become a great ally in his ire against Draco. While she appeared to be as insane as ever in front of the other Death Eaters—even Rudolphus and Rabastan— she was much more sane and scheming behind the privacy of Lucius’s study door. And tempting… She’d taken to dressing much more sensually when there were no meetings with their Lord and grooming herself as befitting a daughter of one of the oldest and purest lines of the Wizarding world.

She was as stunning as his late wife had been, but dark and sensuous where Narcissa had been pale and cool. While his bed at night remained empty, he was not without Bellatrix’s many charms and skills.

When everything was over, he would have Rudolphus killed—if he didn’t manage to have the man killed during the upcoming skirmish with the ineffectual light side or take him out himself—and have Bella as his new bride. They would make a study in light and dark features and he was sure she’d manage to give him a suitable replacement for Draco with little problem. He _might_ even let Lestrange’s child live. The line needed its own heir after all, and there was no way that either Rudolphus or his weak brother would be surviving the war if Lucius had any say in the matter.

A knock on his study door dragged Lucius’s attention from his thoughts and he stopped his pacing. “Come in,” he called. He wasn’t worried about the person on the other side meaning him any harm. They would not have been able to touch the wood of the door if they had, and the sound of their screams of pain would have echoed throughout the halls of Perfidious Albion if they’d been stupid enough to come in without his permission.

The door opened and revealed an annoyed Severus Snape. “Lucius, why did you not tell me that my godson has been so stupid as to entangle himself with that walking target?”

“Because, Severus, I assumed that you could read as much as I could,” Lucius drawled, shoving his anger down as far as was humanly possible. “I was unaware that you had lost that skill. Perhaps you might want to hire an assistant for your brewing then, my old friend.”

“Don’t be facetious,” Severus shot back, his sallow face nearly white with rage. “I cannot make Astoria or Daphne co-operate if they believe they will not be rewarded with something adequate. Young Astoria has had her heart set on that boy since she first saw him.”

“Before her parents turned traitor, she would have been a good match for my heir. However, since he is obviously queer and the bum boy of Harry Potter, she will continue to pine away for him before her untimely death.” Lucius gave Severus a cold and bland smile. “If her uncle does not agree to help us, that is.”

“Of course,” the Potions Master replied blandly. “I have the potion ready for Blueshanks, if you and Bellatrix are ready to put it to use. I soon leave to help the Lestrange brothers with their procurement of certain items that I require for something for your son and his… _boyfriend_.”

Lucius turned on his friend, wand drawn, and found that Severus had beaten him to the draw. “You will refrain from using that word with my son in the same sentence.”

“You will _not_ draw your wand on me, Lucius. You must face the reality that Draco is in a homosexual relationship with Potter, at least for the moment. That _is_ part of the reason you requested this potion through Bellatrix, is it not?”

“Yes, yes,” Lucius answered impatiently. “I will not apologize.”

“I never expected you to,” was the reply he received as Severus made his way to the study door. “If you should need anything from me, you know how to reach me.”

When he was alone again, Lucius began plotting how to get the Sexuality Correction potion on his son’s skin without that fool Dumbledore interfering.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked over the headmaster’s massive desk and studied the older man for a few silent, tense minutes. His mentor had never looked older. His blue eyes were no longer twinkling and the lack of the mysterious smile that he normally wore brought attention to the many wrinkles that he had won over the many long years. Even his long, white beard appeared to be limp and dull.

“I’m afraid, my dear boy, that I have finally ascertained what it is that he has been doing since the time of his resurrection that fateful night,” he said tiredly.

The mention of the night of Cedric’s death made Harry sad, but he shoved the remorse he felt down into a box where he kept all such emotions nowadays. “And you’re going to tell me now.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said succinctly. “According to a few of my correspondents in northern Africa, there have been a surprising number of visits from known Death Eaters to countries such as Libya and Algeria, and even to Arabia. I was able to speak to my old friend Nicholas Flamel about what could be ascertained from these countries, and he replied back that that was where he did his research and apprenticeship for the Philosopher’s stone all those many years ago.”

“So, Voldemort is looking into another Philosopher’s stone?” Harry asked, his attention completely focussed on the older wizard now. “I thought he didn’t need that now that he’s back.”

“Yes, I was unaware that he had access to a Philosopher’s stone before his first defeat by you and your mother sixteen years ago. It appears that a well-known alchemist in Albania, a Mr Ivan Kronovitch, came up missing while Voldemort was there studying. According to Mr Kronovitch’s associates, he had an apprentice at the time, an English wizard that they’ve described as rather creepy and disgusting.”

“They actually said that?” Harry asked, feeling a little bubble of hysterical laughter building.

“Well, they didn’t use those words, I can assure you, but that was what Nicholas said he caught from the gist of their conversations. It appears that when Mr Kronovitch disappeared, his friends went looking for him. They found his home and laboratory up in flames. They were unable to ascertain what actually was taken, but the magical safe that was built into the foundation of his home had been blasted open and all of his research was gone.”

“So, you think he’d made a Philosopher’s stone as well?”

“While my friend is credited with the discovery of the Philosopher’s stone, he is not the first nor the last wizard—or Muggle for that matter—to study that branch of magic. I believe that Nicholas was the first to produce the stone, with my assistance. It _is_ possible Kronovitch was able to make his own, as the research isn’t entirely proprietary.”

“Okay, so Voldemort had a Philosopher’s stone…what? Thirty years ago?”

“That seems to be about the correct time,” Dumbledore said, pouring them both another cup of tea and pushing the plate of biscuits closer to Harry. “I have also spent some time since speaking with Nicholas studying the ruined diary of Tom Riddle. There appears to be residual magic that has nothing to do with the enchantment that allowed Miss Weasley and yourself to speak to the teenaged Riddle. I sent it to Nicholas, and he assures me that it was used an anchor.”

“An anchor?”

“Yes, according to Nicholas, when one takes the time to refine the Philosopher’s stone to create the Elixir of Life, one must have a focal point, or an anchor, for your body to keep from aging or your mind from going totally insane.”

“Um, then can you explain Voldemort to me?” Harry asked flippantly. “Because, the last time I checked, he was completely barking.”

“Yes, it does appear that Tom is no longer sane, but I believe that it is partially genetic since his mother’s side of the family was extremely inbred for the purposes of keeping the Gaunt line pure, and it is partially environmental. He spent a lot of time around the purebloods in the Slytherin house, knowing that he was the last heir to the great Salazar Slytherin, but he was only a half-blood. You can imagine what that does to one after a long time. Self-loathing can do terrible things to an already delicate psyche.”

 _He’s acting as if Voldemort and I don’t come from… OH!_ Harry blinked at his mentor and sighed. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said eventually, “but that doesn’t excuse him for all the horrible things he’s done.”

“No, I would agree with you there, Harry. Now, since the original anchor that Voldemort used has been destroyed, and so spectacularly, by you, Nicholas hypothesised that the anchor would have transferred to the thing closest to the originator as possible.”

“You think it’s Nagini then.”

“That is a logical assumption at this point.” Dumbledore readjusted his half-moon spectacles absently. “There is also the fact that one must consume the Elixir of Life every fifteen years. Even if we say that Tom took a dosage right before the attack in Godric’s Hollow, he is beyond the time frame for his next.”

“So that means his body has begun to age again?”

“I can only assume so, but because of the Blood Magic that he and Peter Pettigrew invoked that night in the graveyard, he has—in essence—become a Potter. And Blood Magic can only be corrected by those of the same blood.”

“Hence the reason why the prophesy is so important,” Harry added with a heavy sigh. “Wonderful. Tell me what I can do then.”

TBC


	28. Chapter Twenty-Five ~ Part of Me

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1.

 **Author’s Notes** : Again, I’m sorry about how long it took me to get the last chapter out. I hope that I can make it up to everyone with this chapter! I’m so happy that everyone loved my alternative to the Horcruxes. Thank you for all the reviews so far, and I love you, Jokes!

** Chapter Twenty-Five—Part of Me **

Vermillion and gold…emerald and silver…pitch and jade…platinum and slate…The colours mixed beautifully as two teenage boys met in a passionate embrace. From where she watched, they were gorgeous and perfect for one another. Neither boy knew that the woman was watching them with a tiny smile on her face. Both looked so much like the men who fathered them—tiny changes here and there the obvious influence of their mothers.

She watched as the blond pulled away, his pale skin flushed with arousal. He looked into the large, innocent-seeming eyes of his lover and smiled serenely. Never before had he seemed so at peace, so happy, so perfectly easy to shatter.

Bellatrix Black-Lestrange stepped away from her scrying dish with a satisfied smirk on her perfectly plump lips. Soon, her dear nephew and his adorable little lover would meet their end by her Master’s wand. Her husband and his brother would soon follow. Then, she would have everything she wanted.

Until then, she could be patient and wait.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry and Draco waited patiently with Narcissa in the recuperating woman’s rooms as the rest of the school population returned to the castle for dinner on the first night back of the new term. Draco was reading a book about Potions that Hermione had sent him from France, while Harry was looking over his homework that was due the next day. Narcissa was quietly writing a letter to the goblins of Gringotts. She’d been advised by Bill Weasley—who was an almost dashing figure with his long, flame-red hair and dragon’s tooth earring— to ask the goblins discretely about the state of the dowry her family had provided upon her marriage to Lucius and all monies that she inherited after the passing of her parents.

Harry looked up from his parchment to find his lover’s mother staring sadly at her son. He’d sometimes seen Molly Weasley look that way at the twins after they’d quit Hogwarts in their seventh year before their joke shop took off. It was then that the regal and elegant woman really _seemed_ like a loving mother to him. “Is there something I can do for you, Narcissa?” he asked softly.

She startled a little—a sign of how out of things she really was—and shook her head. “No, thank you, Mr Potter. I shall be well soon.”

Draco closed his book and took out his pocket watch. “We should head downstairs, Harry. It’s almost time for the feast, and we don’t want to be late. Ginny assures me that this is something that we don’t want to miss.”

“I still fail to see why being down at dinner is going to change anything about how I feel for her brother,” Harry said warmly.

“It is not about changing your ideas or feelings for the youngest Mr Weasley, Mr Potter,” Narcissa said softly. He looked over at her with a curious expression. It was the first time she had offered her opinion on the subject about his ex-best friend’s betrayal. “It is about showing the school population—and the Wizarding world—that you are not affected by their ridiculously small brains and opinions.”

“Mother is right, Harry,” Draco said as he came to stand beside him. “They are waiting for you to crack—same as always. You must show them that they will be waiting forever.”

Harry looked between the blonds and found that they shared the same stern, yet earnest look on their beautiful, patrician faces. He could feel his will to rebel evaporate. _Merlin, if Voldemort had known about this weakness of mine before now, I’d have been doomed._ He sighed heavily and packed his books back into his rucksack. “Fine, I’ll go down with you, Draco. But, we’re coming to see your mother before we go to bed.”

“Of course,” Draco replied with a smug smile. “Now, hurry or Granger and Neville will blame _me_ if we’re late.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Neville exited the threstral-drawn carriage he’d shared with Ginny, Luna and Hermione from the Hogwarts Express and stared up at the brightly lit castle. On the trip there, Ron and his group of cronies had been oddly silent. In fact, finding a trace of the arrogant, brash, and obnoxious redhead was futile. He’d tried, even though Ginny had told him that her brother had been punished and tortured by the twins during break.

The news had done nothing to make any of the friends less anxious to get back to the castle and see how Harry and Draco were holding up. Every letter they’d sent to the pair had been answered favourably, but Neville could feel the tension, anger, and betrayal that both of his friends felt through the parchment. With the arrival of every reply, Neville wanted to curse his grandmother so that he could return to Hogwarts and help his friends.

As he and the girls entered the castle, they saw Harry and Draco holding hands by the closed doors of the Great Hall, heads bent close together as they spoke lowly. The stone that had been sitting on Neville’s chest disappeared as he watched his two friends communicate. They appeared to be okay—at least on the surface.

When he was a few steps away, Harry’s dark head popped up and a bright smile lit up his face. “Nev, Gin, Luna, Hermione; we’re so glad you’re back.”

“Yes, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m relieved to see the four of you,” Draco added with a mock frown. “Maybe one of you will be able to talk some sense into this lout. He believes that he can give the Weasley twins competition for the best practical joker in Gryffindor tower.”

“Keep dreaming, Harry,” Ginny said as she took the older boy’s arm. “You just wait until I tell you what they did to Ron the morning that article came out.”

Neville watched as Draco’s frown became serious. He took the opportunity to step up to his blond friend and question him. “How’s he been during break, Draco?”

“Truthfully, Neville, I have no idea. He appears to be rather fine now, but he also has been rather lost in thought for the whole day. I fear for his homework.”

“Has he talked to you about the situation with Ron?”

“Not since the first day,” Draco said quietly as the group of friends headed towards the nearly deserted Slytherin table. They’d been eating there for nearly two months, since the Gryffindor table was usually host to the most of the sixth and seventh years. “I’ve tried to bring it up a few times since then, but he just gets that stubborn set to his jaw and shuts down.”

Neville felt whatever hope he’d had about his return to school die a horrible, vicious death. “Wonderful…how are we going to fix this then?”

“We talk to the others and jump him. He had a conversation with Dumbledore on New Year’s Eve, and he’s been more withdrawn since then,” the blond responded. “I haven’t been able to get either of them to tell me what they were talking about and it’s driving me insane.”

“Short drive,” Neville teased. That earned him a two finger salute from the posh blond and he couldn’t help but laugh. “It would be nice to know what they talked about though.”

“That was probably about Voldemort then,” Hermione answered from Draco’s other side. Both boys turned to stare at the girl, who they had forgotten was nearby as they talked. “Don’t look at me like that. Dumbledore and Harry usually have a chat around this time of year. I’m surprised they haven’t had _more_ talks this year, since we’re all sure that at the end of this year will be the decisive battle between Harry and You Know Who. The headmaster has probably told Harry something about the connection between the two of them that has upset him.”

“What do you suggest I do, Granger?” Draco asked quietly. He looked just as desperate as he sounded.

“Just as you suggested,” she replied gently. “We tell Ginny and Luna and then corner him. He can’t escape that way. Trust me; I’ve been doing this for a while now. It’s become rather routine, sadly.”

Both boys gave her weak smiles. She was more than likely right, considering how close she and Harry had been since their first year. They would have to trust her more intimate knowledge of the way that Harry’s mind worked. She did have a point.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry hadn’t expected that all of his friends would drag him up to the Room of Requirement and the now familiar sitting room, but he really should have. There was no way that Draco was going to pass on having back up to make Harry tell him what was wrong, and the others were all too willing to get Harry to share as well. Fighting all five of them would be an exercise in futility. With a huff, he threw himself onto the cushy loveseat and patted the cushion next to him for the blond. “Sit down and we’ll talk about what’s bothering me.” He turned his attention to Ginny and Luna, who appeared all too happy to follow his instructions. “You can also tell me what happened at the Burrow over break.”

Draco all but snuggled into Harry’s shoulder, something that had surprised Harry the first time they’d been left alone long enough for them to sit so close. At most, the dark-haired wizard had hoped Draco would hold his hand, but since the night that he and the Slytherin had agreed to begin dating, Draco had insisted on touching nearly all of the time—except in front of Narcissa. His boyfriend was still showing _some_ propriety in front of his mother, which helped Harry to form a relationship with the woman he’d thought cold and uncaring.

Once everyone was seated and comfortable, Harry began their little discussion. “I don’t have to tell any of you that what I tell you here can’t leave this room, or everyone could be in a world of trouble.” He was met by four fierce nods and a raised, thin, blond eyebrow. “Fine, aside from Ron’s betrayal, which you all know about and there’s no reason to go into right now, there are two things that a lot of you are out of the loop concerning.” He looked at the blond teen at his side. “The first is Draco’s to tell if he wants.”

Harry watched as grey eyes flashed in annoyance before Draco nodded. “Yes, Severus faked the death of my mother and my unborn sibling to get them away from my sire and psychotic aunt. For the moment, my mother is in a suite of rooms for her safety. For how long, I don’t know. She is well, now that she has been seen by Madam Pomfrey, but I would like to keep up the charade that she and her unborn child died for as long as possible.”

Their friends agreed readily and the blond looked relieved. “Thank you.”

“Now that Draco’s bared his soul, I suppose it’s my turn. On New Year’s Eve, I met with Professor Dumbledore about a few things. The first was to talk about what Ron did. Draco and I have decided that whatever punishment that Arthur and Molly come up with is fine with us.” Draco stiffened next to Harry, and he could tell that he was going to be in trouble later for talking for his boyfriend, but that wasn’t the point right then. “Then we talked about the post situation. All letters except those from family and close friends is being burned, although Professor Flitwick reassures me that the post has lowered to a mere trickle over the last few days.”

“And you talked about Voldemort as well, Harry,” Luna said dreamily as she played with Ginny’s long hair. “We already assumed that. Can you tell us what you talked about?”

“Apparently because of the Blood ritual Riddle used for his resurrection, he’s made himself a Potter,” Harry said nastily. That tiny fact still angered him.

“You’re head of the Potter line, Harry,” Neville said thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes it your duty to punish him for going against the family’s ideology of Light magic.”

“Harry actually told me about the spell the Dark Lord and Wormtail used that night,” Draco said. “And by using Harry’s blood to get around the protections that his mother placed on him, Voldemort _did_ make himself a Potter. Neville’s right. As head of the family, it’s your duty to kill him.”

“Well, that’s nice to know, considering there’s the whole prophesy saying that one of us has to go for the other to have a life.” Looking at his friends and boyfriend in turn, he continued on with his thoughts. “I would prefer if it was me that survived, but there’s no way to determine who will live after our final confrontation.”

“I refuse to sit here and listen to you feeling sorry for yourself, Harry James Potter,” Ginny snapped. “That kind of defeatist attitude is something that I would expect from _his_ former ilk.” She was pointing heatedly at Draco as her brown eyes bored holes into Harry’s face.

“She’s right, you know,” Draco whispered. “There’s no point in you being the big, brave Gryffindor if you’re just going to think that you’re going to die. You have an advantage that _He_ doesn’t.”

“And what’s that?” Harry asked, feeling more cowed by the tiny wavering in Draco’s normally confident tone than Ginny’s passionate words.

“Sanity,” Hermione finished.

“Thanks, guys,” Harry responded, feeling warmed at the show of support from his friends and lover.

“Now that we’ve all had our gang-up on Harry to find out what he’s been brooding over, can we discuss Ron?” Luna asked calmly, breaking through the tense atmosphere with her level-headedness.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Hermione added. “I would like to know what it is that we’ll all be walking into once we reach the tower.”

“Well, the morning that the article was released, Ron left his bed _very_ early,” Ginny said, relaxing into her girlfriend’s side as she spoke. “The twins and I had stayed up to make sure he didn’t do anything. I followed him downstairs while the twins set up a prank in his bedroom.”

“What was it?” Neville asked happily.

“Spiders,” Ginny said with a nasty smirk, “lots and lots of spiders, all over his bed. Since he doesn’t really pay attention when he’s going to bed, they were sure it would work.”

Hermione frowned, a thoughtful look on her face. “What was he doing, Ginny?”

“Waiting for Errol to deliver the Christmas edition of the _Prophet_ , from what I could see. He read it, put it on the table, and went back to his room. His screams woke up the entire house, of course, so we all went down to breakfast. It was there that Bill and Charlie found the paper.

“Mum was _livid_ , because the twins and I had already told her that we thought that Ron was going to do something against you, Harry.”

“It’s still a big step for Molly to assume that Ron had anything to do with that article,” Harry said sourly.

“Yeah, well, the Rita Skeeter by-line and the mention of ‘recent sources’ was enough for anyone who knew that bitch and you that it was Ron who helped her defame you and Draco all over the paper.”

“What did your parents do to him, Ginevra?” Draco asked. Harry was torn between agreeing with whatever the Weasleys had done to punish their youngest son and wanting to help Draco take out their _own_ payback.

“Well, let’s see. First, they made him clean up all of the Christmas decorations, the Muggle way, as Bill watched him carefully. Then, he spent the rest of the vacation with Charlie, doing all of the repairs on the Burrow, by hand. Mum and Dad still haven’t weighed in on the whole thing. I think they’re still trying to come to terms with the fact that he betrayed someone who we all considered a member of the family.”

“I fail to see how a little manual labour makes up for the defamation of his best friend,” Draco snapped. “How is that acceptable punishment? He sold out Harry to Rita Skeeter. He put a target on _my_ back. He added to the libel against Professor Dumbledore. He has compromised our entire effort against the Dark Lord, which is something that none of us needed at this point in time. And for what?”

“I think you might be making it a bit more than it really is, Draco,” Hermione said. “I don’t think that he’s undermined the _entire_ effort, but he has proven that he’s a liability to Harry if he feels he’s been wronged.”

“Please, stop trying to defend your boyfriend, Granger,” the blond snapped back. “He’s reckless, hot-headed, arrogant, and useless. He feels that Harry betrayed him by befriending Neville and later dating me. He’s also laying the blame for the deterioration of your relationship and the distancing of his sister at Harry’s feet. Throughout this entire affair, he has refused to take responsibility for anything that has gone wrong. He’s unreasonable and out to hurt Harry. Therefore, he is the enemy now.”

“You make it sound like he’s going to go to Voldemort and join his ranks,” Ginny said quietly.

“No, Draco _is_ making sense,” Neville added. “But, he’s not saying that. Ron’s more dangerous than a Death Eater right now. At least if that was the case, he’d be coming at Harry with his wand drawn out in the open. Ron’s worse. He’s got his wand behind his back and he’s waiting for Harry to let down his guard to cut him.”

“Exactly,” the blond said. “And I, for one, am not going to wait for him to do so.”

“Draco, what are you saying?” Harry asked, breaking his silence finally. “Anything that you do will be traced back almost automatically. I’m sure that Seamus, Dean and Justin are on high-alert now that their leader has been brought down. You and I would be the first suspects.”

“Harry,” Draco purred dangerously. “Are you saying that you don’t think that I can get my own justice against Weasley without getting caught? Do you have so little faith in me?”

The low pitch of his boyfriend’s voice made something in Harry’s stomach tighten and his pulse quicken. While it was incredibly sexy to see Draco so set on protecting him, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to his ex-best friend once the blond was done with him.

TBC


	29. Chapter Twenty-Six ~ Paranoia Is in Bloom

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1.

 **Author’s Notes** : Draco _will_ have his revenge against Ronald Weasley! Make no mistake about that. Thank you to all my reviewers and to Jokes, who is the bestest of the bestest!

** Chapter Twenty-Six—Paranoia Is In Bloom **

Ever since he’d returned to Hogwarts, he’d been waiting for something to happen. There was no way that he was going to get away with defaming Harry Potter and putting his precious little Slytherin slut in danger—except, it had been a week and nothing had happened. Even when Terry Boot attacked Malfoy up in the Owlery, nothing had happened to the Ravenclaw—if one discounted the massive amount of house points that had been taken away, the fact that Boot was banned from spending time in any common room but his own, and the detentions with Filch. That was nothing for only attempting to Stun the stupid prat.  

 _Beside the point,_ he thought to himself as he walked with Seamus, Dean and Justin Fitch-Fletchley through the castle to Transfiguration. Even though the entirety of the seventh years had _just_ left the Charms corridor, Ron’s group was the first to reach Professor Swanly’s classroom. _Potter and Malfoy aren’t about to let this go without getting their own revenge. I’ll have to watch my back._

“Something the matter, mate?” Justin asked as they walked into the class for their second lesson of the day.

“No, I was just wondering where Potter and his friends were,” Ron answered. “It’s no good to walk around here with them at our backs.”

“I still can’t believe that Ginny sided against you,” Dean said as he took a seat in the back row.

“Potter’s always been trouble,” Seamus said, taking the seat next to his best friend, leaving Ron and Justin to take seats at the table next to them. “It’s just too bad that he’s turned your whole family against you.”

“Not my whole family,” Ron said. “Perce is on my side and my parents haven’t said anything about it. But the twins, Bill, Charlie and Gin are definitely against me. I mean, Bill and Charlie had me doing chores around the Burrow like a Muggle. Mum and Dad didn’t even stop them from doing it.”

“That sounds rough,” Justin added, not really sounding very sympathetic, which wasn’t that surprising, considering he was a Muggleborn. “And they’re for him being with that arse, Malfoy?”

“Gin and the twins are actually _friends_ with him, if you can imagine it,” Ron spat.

“Actually, I can,” Seamus said. “They’ve always been a little on the devious side, your brothers, and I’ve always wondered about your sister after the whole thing about her being the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.” The boys shut up as Harry, Malfoy, Hermione, and Neville all walked in together, taking seats at the front of the class as the rest of their year mates filled out the middle seats. “Do you think there’s any hope that Hermione will turn against them?”

“Doubt it,” Ron said through clenched teeth. “We’re pretty much through, as good as I figure. We haven’t exchanged two words since the beginning of term. She’s made her choice and I’ve made mine. We’re never going to agree about Malfoy and she’s too damn loyal to _Harry_ to ever turn against him. She always has been. She must be shattered to learn he’s a poofter.”

“I dunno,” Dean said. “She and Nev look pretty tight if you ask me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we didn’t,” Ron snapped before Professor Swanly called everyone to pay attention so she could start the lesson. _‘Mione and Nev?_ His brain stopped dead as Hermione placed a gentle hand on Neville’s arm as she leaned over to retrieve something from her rucksack. _Merlin, it can’t be! She’s way too smart for him! Besides, it’s only been a few weeks since she and I separated. She wouldn’t do that to me, would she?_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Granger, keep up with your pseudo-flirting with Neville,” Draco whispered to the girl on his left as he watched Ronald Weasley’s face go as red as his hair. “Weasley is about to have Kneazles out of _sheer_ jealousy.”

“I still fail to see how this is getting revenge on Ron for what he did,” Harry muttered from on his right. “I mean, we haven’t actually _done_ anything to him.”

Draco turned around and gave his lover a lazy, happy smile that made the Saviour blush. A sliver of desire ran through his body, and he had to shove it down because they were in public. “This will work for the sole reason that we _aren’t_ doing anything to him. He’s doing it all to himself. He’s growing paranoid about when and where we will strike. _And_ he’s going insane with the prospect that his girlfriend dumped him so that she could date Neville Longbottom.”

“Actually, as far as plans go, Harry,” Hermione piped in, “it’s a pretty good one. It makes him his own worst enemy. However, I still fail to see why Neville and I should do this.”

Harry sighed in defeat. “Fine, but Swanly is about to start the lesson. Can we leave the baiting of Ron for after class?”

Draco looked over at Hermione and Neville, who appeared to be having an intense moment of staring at one another. It was disrupted by the Transfiguration professor talking about the day’s lesson plan, and both had furiously red blushes on their faces. _Perhaps they aren’t pretending as much as I thought. What an interesting prospect._

“Mr Malfoy, can you tell me the difference in wand movements between Transfiguring an apple into a rock and Transfiguring a rock into a rabbit?” Swanly said with her sharp, shrill voice, cutting into his private thoughts.

“Certainly, Professor,” he said smoothly. “When Transfiguring something organic into something inorganic, you must…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa sighed as she went over her accounts yet again. The goblins were being rather adamant about seeing her, since her death was being so widely spread by Lucius. They were demanding that she actually show _up_ at the bank and prove that she was allowed access to the Black vault in her name. She was also needed to make sure that Lucius hadn’t done anything to Draco’s trust vault since it was so obvious that her son was firmly on Harry Potter’s side due to Rita Skeeter’s salacious article and would be discontinuing his spying efforts for the Dark Lord _tout de suite_.

 _If I ever get my hands on that disgusting beetle and whoever was stupid enough to actually_ give _her that information, they will beg until their throats are raw before I am done with them and their limbs are no longer attached to their pathetic corpses,_ she thought viciously. _I am just glad that it doesn’t seem to have affected Draco too much and Harry only a very negligible difference._ Her unborn daughter—Madam Pomfrey gave her that joyous news the day before and she’d yet to share it with Harry and Draco—kicked and she smiled sadly as she remembered Lucius’s bright and happy face when she told him that she was finally pregnant after trying for so long to conceive once more. _We will never be a family like that again. My daughter will never know her father the way that Draco does. And it is all Lucius’s fault._

A knock on the door to the rooms that Headmaster Dumbledore gave her once she was well enough to be moved broke through her morose thoughts. She stood up to answer it, moving slowly and carefully, less she do something to strain her already delicate pregnancy. She was unsurprised to see the Headmaster standing before her, his cloudy, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Headmaster, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Ah, my dear girl,” the old man said kindly, “I’ve come to check on you and discuss a few things.”

“Then, please, do come in and sit down,” she replied, reclaiming her seat and waving her wand to warm the pot in the tea service that the house-elves delivered less than an hour ago. “How may I help you?”

“I hope you and your child are doing well,” he said as she passed a cup to him and desperately wished she’d saved some of the chocolate biscuits the house-elves had sent with the initial pot.

“I am as fine as can be expected. The baby is doing well. She is using my ribcage as a ladder, so I believe that she might be a Quidditch player like her older brother or a horsewoman like me.”

“Have you thought of a name for your daughter yet?” Dumbledore asked, still using his kindly tone.

“No, but I _am_ rather fond of Amarys. I suppose it will depend upon if Draco or Lucius is still the head of the family when she is born.”

“So, has Poppy given you a due date then?”

“Sometime around Easter, my daughter shall grace this world,” Narcissa said with a slight scowl. “As will my sister’s child, a boy, I think.”

“So, you _have_ inherited that trait of the Blacks,” he said excitedly.

“From time to time, I see flashes,” she replied. “I’m far less reliable than Sybil Trelawney, and Draco has shown no signs of inheriting it. I do not know whether Andromeda or her daughter have either.”

“I can assure that Nymphadora did _not_ inherit the seer’s blood. She’s _is_ a Metamorphmagus, however.”

“Yes, Draco informed me of that fact. He told me that he met her through Harry Potter, and that she and her mother have expressed the desire to reconcile with me. It was a little shocking to have that sprung on me Christmas day, to be honest.”

“And have you given Andromeda’s proverbial olive branch any consideration? I ask because she is anxious to meet with you once more.”

 _He is asking rather pertinent questions,_ she thought, narrowing her eyes to watch him more carefully. The old man appeared harmless, but she wasn’t fooled. He single-handedly defeated Grindewald back in the forties, and he was responsible for _most_ of the upsets that the current Dark Lord had suffered until Harry Potter came along. Despite the fact that he had been Head of Gryffindor House and the Transfiguration Professor before becoming headmaster before he turned one hundred years old, she was fairly certain that he was shrewd enough to have been a Slytherin. _I can always refuse to answer his questions, but as he is offering me asylum here at the school and Draco has—wisely—taken him into his confidence, I suppose that it would do me no real harm to answer his queries._

“I haven’t decided one way or the other,” Narcissa answered finally. “I realise that I have fairly lost my husband and Bellatrix. They were dead to me the moment that Severus faked my death and snuck me into this school. Besides which, both were willing to let my unborn child and me die for that creature they serve. My children are my only family as of now.” She closed her eyes in fatigue. “If Andromeda truly wishes to reconcile with me, have her send me a letter in her own hand, and not through my son and her daughter.”

Dumbledore nodded before conjuring up a plate of fresh biscuits—one of which he promptly shoved into his mouth before washing it down with a great swallow of tea. “I will let her know. Is there anything I can do for you personally?”

“There is, actually,” she said, seeing how well timed the headmaster’s visit was. _Perhaps he was just_ waiting _for me to need his assistance to come visit me_. “I have been having trouble with the goblins of Gringotts regarding my personal Black vaults, and I would like to check on the status of Draco’s trust vault. Since his is now seventeen, he can access it without Lucius knowing one way or the other, but I need to make sure that that is still the case.”

“I can arrange for you to be disguised and guarded on a _short_ trip, Narcissa,” he responded cautiously. “I’m afraid you couldn’t do much shopping, but your business with the bank and a stop for more clothes could be arranged.”

“I would appreciate the trip to the bank; however, clothes may be purchased at Gladrags in Hogsmeade for the time being. It might be easier to find maternity wear there than in Diagon Alley and would certainly cause less of a stir if a tourist shopped there than myself. Malfoys are certainly not known to visit anything outside of major Wizarding cities. Due to Bella’s loving treatment, I hardly look like the woman that many saw at the World Cup.”

“Hm, you do have a point,” the old man said, stroking his beard in thought. “I’m sure that I can have Professors Flitwick or Vector escort you to Hogsmeade safely, but Diagon Alley will be a little trickier. That will require a few days to secure so that I can have the right people free to do so.”

“Is it true that you have allowed Remus Lupin to return as Defence Professor?”

“Yes, he was the most qualified individual, since Severus showed his hand so badly last year and was forced to leave.”

“That is one way of putting it. I never understood why he killed Minerva McGonagall when his target was you,” she said pointedly.

The fearsome wizard turned calculatingly blue eyes on her as he weighed her soul—or so it felt like. He nodded to himself as if he found her worthy of an answer and then smiled sadly. “Severus, as you have no doubt gathered, has been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix for many years now. Since he turned in the small bit of prophesy he overheard regarding Harry and Voldemort, to be precise. That is why he was able to bring you to the school to be treated.”

“He turned when he realised that Voldemort had no intention of sparing any of the Potters, didn’t he?” Narcissa asked, feeling so _very_ sorry for her dear friend. She knew that was why he’d let himself stay at Hogwarts so long. “That is why you allowed him to take the position as Potions Master for so long, isn’t it?”

“You are correct on both points, my dear,” Dumbledore answered.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Headmaster,” she said tersely, trying her hardest not to bristle under his familiar tone. She hadn’t enjoyed it as a student and, now that she was an adult with two children, she liked it even less. “Why was Professor McGonagall killed in your stead?”

“That would be because Minerva rushed into the fray before I arrived. She was a vision of battle-forged beauty and lived very much up to her namesake. I believe that she took down four Death Eaters when she died.”

“Yes, the Dark Lord was rather upset by that, and the fact that Severus did not kill you as he was ordered. He was tortured most brutally.”

“I know. He wrote to me when he finally was able. His handwriting is a test of skill to read during normal circumstances. It was nearly illegible at that point. His report on the after effects of his failure is the reason that Draco was allowed back into the school without repercussions and not arrested immediately.”

“Yet another debt my family owes to Severus that we may never be able to repay,” Narcissa said quietly. “Is there something I can do to assist? I feel as if I owe you a debt, and it is not a feeling I am accustomed to _enjoying.”_

The headmaster gave her a kind smile. “You owe me nothing, Narcissa. The truth of the matter is that Hogwarts has always been a sanctuary for those in need. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. In fact, it was Harry’s word that allowed for you to be treated, though I doubt he sees it as such.” He nibbled on another biscuit and drank more tea before speaking again. “On that note, Harry and I have been talking about a place that would be safe for you that is not the school, however.”

“I’m not certain that a place like that exists, Headmaster.”

“Do you remember the home of your cousin, Sirius Black?”

“Yes, of course…I thought that Aunt Walburga had her horrid portrait spelled to the wall after the death of Regulus.”

“That, unfortunately, is very true. The house has suffered some in the years since your aunt’s passing and Sirius’s incarceration. Molly Weasley has attempted to whip it into shape, but the house and Kreacher are reluctant to follow the orders of the current owner, since he is not a Black through blood or marriage.”

“And who owns G-G-” She frowned. “It is under _Fidelius_ , isn’t it?” The old man nodded. “And you are the Secret Keeper?” Again, he tipped his head in her direction. “Who is the owner of the property then?”

“Harry.”

“Of course, Sirius _would_ leave all of his property to his godson.” She sighed, rubbing the area above her liver as the baby kicked her yet again. “From what I can imagine, it would hardly be a place I could take a new born child.”

“It is, as you’ve discovered, under _Fidelius_ and I am the Secret Keeper. No one would be able to find you unless I wished it so.”

“And how would I shop for essentials? No doubt it would be suspicious if I showed up in London all of a sudden.”

“Well, that is where your reconciliation with Andromeda and her family comes into play.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry waited until he and Draco were completely alone to let his lover know what he’d been talking about with Headmaster Dumbledore the night before. The information had been ready to spill out all day, but the fact that they were watched constantly stayed his tongue—for a change. As soon as the door to the blond’s dorm room shut, Harry was facing Draco’s ire. However, he was distracted from his boyfriend’s anger by the way the candlelight caught his pale, white-blond hair just right and made his grey eyes flash silver.

“Potter, if you are going to stand there looking like an idiot, you can leave and go back to Gryffindor tower for the evening,” Draco said snidely. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone of substandard intelligence. That includes you as well, despite what you do with your tongue behind closed doors.”

 _Oops, I let it go too long and now his curiosity is going to get_ me _into trouble,_ Harry thought before he crossed the room and wrapped Draco into a possessive hug that he quickly followed up with a hungry kiss. The blond all but melted into his embrace, returning the kiss with an eagerness that was frightening. Slim fingers tugged at his unruly hair while slender hips rubbed an obvious erection against Harry’s thigh.

“Mmm, Draco,” Harry panted as he pulled away from his boyfriend’s talented tongue and lips with only a twinge of disappointment. “If you let me breathe, I’ll tell you what you want to know. No torture necessary.”

“That is up for _me_ to decide,” Draco purred, leaning over and sucking at the delicate skin behind Harry’s ear—no doubt renewing the hickey that he’d made anew every day since they’d wanked each other in Gryffindor tower on the first day of the Christmas hols. “You talk, I’ll listen. When you’re done, I’ll fuck you senseless, we can have a bit of a nap, and then we can do our homework while Dobby brings us something from the kitchens. It’s a simple plan, really.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to think straight when you do _that_ ,” Harry moaned, tossing his dark hair back to allow Draco better access. “I’m having trouble as is.”

“Then you’d better talk fast, Potter,” Draco quipped before going back to his task with relish.

 _Merlin, he’s going to kill me if my hormones don’t beat him to it,_ Harry thought resignedly. “Okay, so I went to go talk to Dumbledore last night when I left you, remember?” The blond gave an affirmative noise as he continued to suck at Harry’s neck and his hands wandered down to the waistband of his trousers to play with his belt and the fly. Harry couldn’t help but shiver as Draco’s cool fingers brushed the skin of his stomach briefly. “We were trying to find a good place for your mum and sibling to stay that wasn’t the school.”

 _That_ got Draco’s attention long enough that he looked up from trying to undress them both. Of course, Harry could have done without the murderous look in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t Mother and my sibling be here? Hogwarts has always been the safest place in Britain during times of trouble. Why is now different?”

“Well, it’s going to be a rather obvious place once Lucius and Voldemort discover they’re alive and that Snape lied, Draco. Where else was he going to take them so they couldn’t be tracked?” Harry asked, regretting that he’d upset his boyfriend. However, he knew it was better to get this discussion out of the way as soon as possible. “I own the Black family house. Sirius left it to me when he…when he died.” Harry took a deep breath before ploughing ahead.  “It’s under _Fidelius_ , but it needs a lot of work before it would be acceptable for anyone to live there on a permanent basis, my mad godfather excepted. Tonks and her parents are willing to do as much work on it as they can to make it liveable for your mother and the baby.”

“The Black house is in London,” Draco responded quietly. “She wouldn’t be able to leave it, would she?”

“No, but if she and Andromeda begin talking again, she can have Ted and Andromeda run errands for her, since their house isn’t safe anymore,” Harry said softly, taking Draco’s hands and rubbing them soothingly. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than having all of you together when Lucius comes for his family.”

“So, you and Dumbledore expect me to sit here like a good little pawn while you ship my mother to a house you wouldn’t even let a mad convict inhabit with a sister she hasn’t talked to in over twenty years?” Draco asked coldly, tugging his hands away violently. “That’s a little more than just not _ideal_ , Harry. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think I’d agree to it.”

Harry sighed and sat down at Draco’s desk, his erection gone and a headache blooming behind his eyes. “It’s the safest place we could think of, Draco. The house is under _Fidelius_. Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper. I’m the owner. Even if any of the Death Eaters tried to get into it, they’d be bounced off by the wards. Besides, it would preserve the Malfoy family, or isn’t that important to you now that your mother is safe?”

“How _dare_ you say that,” Draco snarled. “You have _no_ idea what it is like to be me.”

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be _me_ ,” Harry shouted, standing up so quickly that the desk chair crashed to the stone floor. “I’m trying to protect you, your family, my friends and _their_ families and the rest of the ruddy Wizarding world from a _madman_ , and all you can think about is a little difficulty your mum’s going to experience while I’m out saving the world?” He walked over to the door and opened it wide. “You know what? You can talk to me again when you’re being reasonable. I’m done with this conversation.”

He let the door slam shut behind him, but the sound only echoed in his mind and his heart as he trudged back to Gryffindor tower to find Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. They at least would understand if he didn’t want to talk right away.

TBC


	30. Chapter Twenty-Seven ~ A King With No Crown

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1.

 **Author’s Notes** : I know that you all must be disappointed that I didn’t have Draco make some grand move last chapter, but there’s still time. And I ask that you don’t kill me before I fix Harry and Draco’s relationship. It’s the stress! Thank you for the reviews, and thank you, Jokes, for being so awesome!

** Chapter Twenty-Seven—A King With No Crown **

“Granger, please tell me if he’s all right,” Draco wheedled. Evidently, telling him to go away had no effect, since the blond had been sitting at her favourite library table for the last thirty minutes, begging for information about Harry. “I need to know. He’s in that dorm room with Weasley and his cronies with only Neville to break it up.”

 _That_ got the witch’s attention, and she levelled cold, brown eyes on the annoying Slytherin. “Don’t you trust Neville to watch Harry’s back? I find it difficult to believe that he’d let anything happen to his friend, considering the way that Neville has stuck to Harry’s side since the beginning of the year. I’m surprised that he even allowed _you_ anywhere near Harry.”

Her words were almost as effective as the punch she’d given him in third year. His normally pale face went even whiter and he moved back. “Harry won’t answer any of my letters and Neville has refused to relay messages for me,” Draco whispered. “I’m not asking you to betray his trust, Granger. I just want to know if he’s doing okay.”

Hermione debated ignoring him and going back to her research into the Philosopher’s Stone, something that she had picked up again after speaking with Harry for a few hours the night before. It felt strange to be going over something she’d done back when they were first years, but at least this time she had the added benefit of some of Mr Flamel’s personal notes from his own time working on the Stone. However, the stricken look in his grey eyes made her reconsider. “Malfoy, I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “And I’m only telling you this at all because I want you to stop looking at me like a kicked Crup puppy. Harry’s not really moved much out of his bed since he came back from your rooms Friday afternoon. He will talk to anyone who climbs into his bed with him, but he won’t leave and none of us have been able to get him to eat, let alone shower.”

“That means it’s been nearly forty-eight hours then,” he breathed. If it was possible, he looked even more upset.

“Yes, Malfoy, it has been, and I didn’t think I’d ever see my best friend _so_ upset over some stupid thing you said, but there it is,” she said, shutting the book in her hands and standing up. “Now, if you don’t mind—and even if you do—I have research to do and you are keeping me from it. If you want my opinion, you should apologize to him.”

With that, she turned on her heel and breezed out of the library. She’d continue her reading in her dorm room. It was bound to be quieter and Malfoy-free.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco watched as Granger dismissed him so eloquently, her words still ringing in his head. _Why should I be the one to apologize to him? He wants to put my mother and the baby into a house that isn’t fit for wild manticorns. He should have known that I would_ never _agree to that._ He stood and frowned. _However, he was right when he said that he’s under a lot of pressure over everything and this little feud with Weasley has got to be adding to it. I don’t suppose that my picking a fight helped anything._

He sighed as he headed for the doors of the library and continued in the direction of his mother’s suite of rooms. After speaking with her, he’d know how to proceed. He stopped as he was forced to wait for the staircase between the fourth and third floors to swing back around, his mind buzzing with how he was going to phrase the situation with his mother.

Just as the stairs rumbled into place and Draco moved forward to go down, he ran into someone who yelled as they slid down the staircase. The blond raced forward to help whoever it was but paused as he noticed the violently red hair and freckles. _Bloody hell, as if my weekend hasn’t sucked enough already, I had to run into the_ Weasel _as well?_

Draco’s hand flew to his wand to cast a Levitation Charm on the obnoxious Gryffindor, but someone else beat him to it with a shout of “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

It was then that he noticed the Weasley twins at the bottom of the stairs. They were looking at him with identical amused expressions, as the shocked Ronald’s eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. “You know, Malfoy—” the one who cast the spell started.

“—we know that ickle Ronniekins has been a bit of a prat—” the other added.

“—but did you _really_ have to push him down the stairs?”

“We don’t want him dead, you know.”

“He can’t suffer if he’s not alive.”

“Well, that, and he’s still our brother.”

“For now, he is,” the first said with a mischievous smirk.

Closing his mouth, Draco drew up this full height of 185 centimetres and scowled at the identical men. “If I wanted Weasley dead, I would _not_ push him down the stairs in public,” he drawled spitefully.

“Oh, we know,” the first said.

“We just thought we’d take the piss a bit,” the second responded with a smirk that irked Draco like nothing else.

The first twin turned this other half. “George, why don’t you take Ronnie there back to the tower? I’d like to talk to Malfoy a bit.”

“Of course, Fred,” the second agreed, picking up the unconscious Weasel with a whispered _Mobilicorpus_ and trotted off.

“Malfoy, I know that before this year we haven’t exactly been great friends, and George and I _might_ have helped Harry manhandle you a time or two, but I was hoping that we could be grownups about all that and leave it in the past,” Fred Weasley said, slinging a heavy arm around Draco’s shoulders as if they were old chums—despite the little speech he’d just given. “See, I’d like to talk to you about Harry.”

Draco bristled at the redhead’s familiar treatment, but gave a great sigh when he realised that being a brat to the twin would only make the situation with Harry worse. “Of course,” he replied levelly. “I was going to go talk to—”

“Your mum?” the redhead asked quietly, walking with Draco to a quiet corner and checking around before putting up a Privacy charm. “Yeah, as members of the Order, we know that your mum is here under Dumbledore’s protection.”

“Does your brother know?” Draco asked, the ice cold grip of fear lodging in his chest as he began calculating ways to permanently shut the Weasel up before he got his mother and sibling murdered by Death Eaters or those stupid people who thought that the Malfoys should all be hanged together.

“No, Mum and Dad thought it best that he doesn’t know anything about your mum. Hell, Percy, the great twat, doesn’t know either for the same exact reason,” Fred Weasley answered sadly. “I know that our families haven’t exactly gotten on for a few generations, but since you and Harry are…dating, I was hoping that we could bury that hatchet in an unmarked grave.”

Draco felt his lips twitch into a wry smile at the Muggle expression. “If I can be friendly with Ginevra, then it is no hardship to be polite with you and your twin.”

“Now, see, I was hoping that you’d say something like that. It makes everything easier.” Fred Weasley nodded sagely before he reached out sharply and grabbed Draco by the front of his robes. Draco was surprised to find that the tips of his shoes were scrapping at the stone floor as the taller man held him there with a jovial expression on his face. “See, here’s the deal, Malfoy—Draco. I like you. You’re a decent bloke when you’re not trying to strut around like a prat. You’re rather smart, most of the time, and you’re devious enough to keep things interesting for Harry and Hermione.” The redhead’s eyes hardened as he leaned in close, his face turning stony. “Harry is like a brother to me—George too, of course—and you’ve upset him greatly.

“Now, I’m a reasonable man. You apologise to Harry, and you get to keep your pretty face intact. Keep making him miserable, and I’ll rearrange your guts until they’re your brains. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly,” Draco responded, stuck between wanting to lash out at the former Gryffindor and feeling grateful that his lover was so well protected and loved by those around him. “Weasley—Fred, I want to apologise to him, but he’s refusing to see me or accept any post.”

“You let George and me handle that. You find a time and place where you two can talk, and we’ll make sure that Harry shows up, without his entourage.” Fred released Draco’s robes and his face went back to the mischievous grin that the blond was used to seeing. “It’s always nice doing business with you, Draco. I’m just glad we’re on the same side this time.”

“You and me both,” Draco muttered good-naturedly. “Now, I can assume that you and your twin will be staying here for a while?”

“Yes, we’re here to keep an eye on our stupid brother. Seems that when he’s left on his own, he gets these delusions of grandeur and Gin’s told us he needs to be taken down a peg or five.”

“I shall send a note to you when I have an appropriate location and time.”

“Do you still have that same screech owl then?” Fred asked, his blue eyes spelling trouble.

Draco gritted his teeth. _As if a Malfoy would have some as common as a screech owl_ , he thought viciously before remembering how easily Fred had picked him up. “Tiberius is an eagle owl, Weasley. Do try to keep up.”

“Merlin, Draco, even your owl’s name is poncy.” The other man shook his head in mock sadness. “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for your precious emperor.”

“See that you do,” Draco said before sticking out his hand for the redhead to shake. Fred did not disappoint. _I suppose I could do worse than being friends with the Weasley twins._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa glanced up from her correspondence with Andromeda as her son entered her room. “Hello, my love,” she said, taking a careful look at her elder child. “You are looking better. Have you spoken with Mr Potter then?”

“How did you know?” he asked as he sat down across from her.

“Draco, I am your mother. You cannot keep something like a fight with your…lover…from me. While you may show a stoic expression to the others, I saw right away on Friday that you were upset. Besides, you and he have not been to see me together since Thursday evening. It does not take a mind reader to know what has happened.”

She watched as her son grimaced, his grey eyes so like his father’s criss-crossing back and forth as he thought things over before closing and his face going blank. _His face is so much more expressive than Lucius’s. It will be good for Amarys to be raised with someone like him as her male role model, even with Harry Potter as a lover. She will be a real human and not some facsimile._

“Have you spoken with Andromeda Tonks about where you will go?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Draco, your aunt and I have been talking this weekend through post. Your Mr Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore think it is best if your sister and I go to stay with Andromeda and her husband at the Black house in London until things are…calmer. I understand that Molly Weasley and Andromeda have been spending time making the house…presentable and that Kreacher—vile creature that he is—has been behaving with your aunt in residence.” Narcissa could not help but smile as she remembered just how formidable her older sister could be.

“Mother, do you think it is wise to stay with Aunt Andromeda and her husband Theodore?” he asked earnestly, leaning forward to take her hand in one of his own warm, slightly calloused hands.

 _He is so much more like me than his father. How have I not noticed it all this time?_ With a sigh, she answered him. “Draco, darling, I understand that you are worried about your sister and I, but I can assure you that Andromeda—though disowned—is a Black witch through and through. She will make sure that we are as protected as she would her own daughter, Nymphadora, or Theodore. That fierceness can be extended to you if you wished.”

“How is it so easy for you two to reconcile after so long?” he whispered.

“Because, despite the fact that we haven’t spoken since her wedding, I have never forgotten that I have _two_ sisters, and only one of them is sane. Andromeda and I were _very_ close as children, as we were united against Bella’s tyranny.” She gave her son a fond smile as she rubbed gently at her protruding stomach. “Luckily, I doubt that Amarys will have to deal with such a sibling.”

“You have said that three times I am having a sister. You’re sure then?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey has confirmed it at our last appointment, and I have Seen myself with a beautiful blonde little girl and an unhappy brunet boy. I believe that that will be Bella’s child.”

Draco stiffened at the mention of her ability. Lucius had never been comfortable when she’d gotten flashes of insight either, but he’d never failed to listen to her, until the Dark Lord’s rebirth. “Have you told Dumbledore then?”

“Yes, my love,” she said, deciding to ignore his cool tone. “Now, do tell me that you plan on speaking with Mr Potter before things get any more difficult. I have seen the way he looks at you. It is more than the silly puppy-love that I thought it was at first.”

He pinned her with nearly silver eyes, seeming almost fevered with their bright sheen. “Have you _Seen_ anything about us?”

 _Yes, Draco, you and Harry Potter will be beautiful in raising your cousin, but you need not know that now._ “Some things, my son, are better left to the future. Now, where are you going to speak with him?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry woke up from his fitful sleep when his bed was drenched with cold water. He sat up, spluttering and looking around for the perpetrator of his soaking. He was greeted with matching grins as Fred and George stood guard around Ron’s bed. “Hi, Harry,” they chorused.

“I should have known,” Harry said around a grin. The expression seemed a little odd on his face after the last two days of self-pity and depression, but it was difficult to be sad around the twins. “What brings you two back to Hogwarts? I thought after your spectacular escape from Umbridge that you’d never return.”

“Desperate times, Harry, old boy,” George—Harry was _sure_ it was George because of a scar that cut through his left eyebrow—said morosely.

“Yeah, Mum and Dad have sent us here to keep ickle Ronniekins in line for the time being,” Fred added, his tone just as grave.

“Why would Molly and Arthur do that to him?” Harry asked.

“Well, since he’s practically turned you and Malfoy over to the Dark as prime targets, it was about time that he was punished, truthfully,” Fred replied, exchanging an unreadable look with his twin.

“Mum and Dad had to think about what it was they really wanted to do to him.”

“Yeah, Charlie and Bill got their say as older brothers—” Fred started.

“—but this is more to our liking,” George finished.

“I still don’t know what _this_ is,” Harry said, casting a Drying Charm on his sheets and clothes. He wrinkled the nose as he caught the scent of his unwashed body, but then his fight with Draco flashed through his mind and he suddenly didn’t care anymore. He threw himself back onto his mattress and curled around his pillow pathetically. “Ron’s been a prat all year. I don’t really care about his punishment anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” one twin said—Harry couldn’t tell which one since he’d closed his eyes. “Ron’s only hasn’t been expelled because this is the safest place for him right now during the war and he can’t stay at the Burrow, since we’ve all gone underground.”

“Yeah,” the other said with mock sadness. “Yet, he’s proven that he can’t be trusted on his own, so we’re here to keep him in line and his little friends under control.”

“There’s nothing like the threat of being used for experimental test subjects to keep your year mates from being idiots.”

Harry felt his lips twisting up into a smile against his will. _Leave it to the twins to cheer someone up even without trying_ , he thought warmly. “I guess that would be enough to cow most of them, but where’s Neville?”

“Mr Longbottom is off helping Hermione do some mysterious research,” Fred said, coming to sit down on Harry’s bed next to him. “When we arrived with Ron, he was only too happy to leave you in _our_ capable hands.”

“Well, that and he and Hermione were exchanging these _looks_ that were best left for somewhere a little more private than the common room,” George said as he opened the curtains to Ron’s bed to show their younger brother unconscious.

“Oh, very true, my dear brother,” Fred replied, tapping his wand against Harry’s knee. “Now, I have some news for you.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, taking _some_ interest in what the twins could tell him.

“We had the great fortune of running into Draco Malfoy—”

“—well, it was really Ron who did the running, but you know how that is—“

“—and he’s just as miserable as you are. He wants to talk to you tonight after dinner. He says the usual place.”

Hope, bright and blinding, flared in Harry’s chest for the first time since Friday afternoon. He sat up and whispered “ _Tempus_ ” under his breath. He saw that it was an hour before dinner. That was just enough time to have a long shower and put on a clean set of robes. He sniffed himself and grimaced. Yeah, he definitely needed it. “Thanks, you guys,” he said as he ran into the attached bathroom, feeling infinitely lighter than he had before.

TBC


	31. Chapter Twenty-Eight ~ Waiting For You

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1. **This chapter contains explicit descriptions of slash sex.**

**Author’s Notes** : Last chapter was really very Draco-centric, wasn’t it? Oh well. Thank you to all of my reviewers and to Jokes, who continues to make me squeal with her lovely insight and help. This chapter also contains **explicit** slash sex.

** Chapter Twenty-Eight—Waiting For You **

Lucius decided it was about time to check on the family tapestry back at Malfoy Manor. Something had been bothering him since his last conversation with Bellatrix regarding family. His sister-in-law-cum-lover had mentioned that once Rudolphus and Rabastan were dead that she would destroy that particular Lestrange family artefact and be more than willing to combine the family fortunes once she and Lucius were married. He knew that the feeling would go away once he’d looked at the many generations of Malfoys spanning nearly a millennium.

Getting into his ancestral home had been ridiculously easy. Voldemort’s paranoia about not returning to the majestic medieval hold was unfounded. The Ministry and Dumbledore’s pathetic Order did not have it under surveillance. The wards would have told Lucius the moment he Apparated onto the grounds. And how he’d missed his beloved peafowl as they strutted regally along the lush lawn, their pale and pure feathers a lovely contrast to the green of the grass they moved upon.

With a sigh, he turned towards the Manor, sending the house-elves that had come up to him, scrambling in fear of his ire. He ignored them and purposefully stalked through the palatial halls of his family home before he reached his destination.

He drew to a halt before a heavy iron door that bore the Malfoy crest—a snake in the form of a figure eight, devouring its own tail, before a field of silver birch trees—and placed his hand before the snake’s dangerous mouth. The unsettling feeling of the raspy, metallic tongue ghosted over his palm before the door swung open on quiet hinges. With a smile, he stepped into a room that only Malfoys and their spouses had seen since the Manor had been built and looked at the family heirlooms.

Lord Voldemort might have been the last heir to the great Salazar Slytherin, but not even _he_ had a family legacy that was as great as this. A gate, much like the one in the Department of Mysteries, whispered its haunting swan song against the left wall, trying to tempt those stupid enough to try and steal from the Malfoys to come and see what was behind it. On the right wall, rich paintings spanning from the times of the great Wizarding masters to a painting that Lucius had purchased for Narcissa in Paris on their honeymoon stared back at him.

However, on the far wall was his goal. The tapestry was the same shade of silver that made up the Malfoy crest, but was in the shape of the majestic eagle—another nod to the Roman flair his family had adopted ages ago. At the top was the first of the Malfoys, Hector-François Malfoi, and his wife, Penelope Decroix-Malfoi. At the bottom, near the tail feathers of the eagle, he found what he was looking for: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Narcissa Regina Black-Malfoy, and Draco Lucius Malfoy. However, what he was _not_ expecting was to see another name on the tapestry, one that could only have come from Narcissa herself: Amarys Druella Black-Malfoy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Justin leaned in close to Ron while they sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall for dinner and whispered, “Just how long are your brothers going to continue to follow us around? It’s getting rather creepy.”

“Yeah, I know, but Mum and Dad made it clear that I was not to make a peep or that I’d find myself out of here so fast that my head would explode,” Ron muttered darkly. “So, they’re here to make sure I don’t. I guess they’re staying as extra protection for Potter and his group as well.”

“Me mam isn’t too happy about the fact that Dumbledore’s let Harry and Malfoy cavort about the halls lately,” Seamus said, frowning as he looked over at the sparsely populated Slytherin table.

_Cavort about?_ Ron thought sarcastically. _Seamus’s been spending too much time with the Ravenclaw girls if he’s saying stuff like that._

“I haven’t tried to explain what’s going on to my parents,” Dean added. “Otherwise, my mum would take me out of school and I’d be shipped off to Muggle secondary school before I could blink.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Dean,” Justin said. “My mom’s been reading the _Prophet_ religiously since fifth year and every other day I get a letter from my dad’s brand new screech owl saying he’s willing to find me a tutor for any schooling I need if things get too dangerous here.”

“No offence, Thomas,” Su Li—a pretty Chinese Ravenclaw girl in their year—said, “or Finch-Fletchley, but your parents are idiots. The worst thing they could do would be to remove you from Headmaster Dumbledore’s protection and Hogwarts’s wards. The Dark Lord seems to have a special hatred of Muggleborns, if you heard what happened to Granger’s parents before the Christmas hols.”

“Yes, you’re right, Su,” Padma Patil said to her housemate with an affected sniff. “However, I think he went after Granger’s parents specifically because she’s friends with Harry Potter. That is one of the reasons that I’m glad _I_ went to Ravenclaw.”

“You may be correct,” Su responded, running a hand through her long, dark hair and snagging Ron’s attention from his plate.

_Okay, so, she’s kinda like Cho Chang and Hermione put together. Does that make it awkward if I ask her to go to Hogsmeade with me? Now that ‘Mione’s with Neville and Potter’s with Malfoy, it wouldn’t be as if I was trying to replace either of them, yeah?_ He cleared his throat nervously when the girl’s liquid brown eyes stared at him as if he was a specimen. “So, um, Li, I was wondering if you and your friends would like to come with us guys to Hogsmeade for the weekend.”

He watched as she, the Patil twins, Lavender Brown and Susan Brown all exchanged looks before the Chinese girl nodded. “We’d love to,” she answered with a wide smile.

“Aw, is ickle Ronniekins finally flirting with a girl who’s not Hermione?” George teased as he and Fred paid attention to the conversation finally.

“Our little Ronnie’s all growed up, Gred,” Fred replied as he wiped away faux tears.

“I know, Forge. Whatever are we going to do?” George asked, sounding hysterical and making Su look back and forth between the three Weasley brothers as if they were all insane. Ron wanted to groan in despair as she stood up from the table and the rest of the girls got up with her without a word.

“I hate you both _so_ much right now,” he whispered harshly. “When this is all over, I’m going to find all those hexes ‘Mione always threatened me with and try them on you two.”

“You can try—” Fred started.

“—but we’ve got loads more experience at revenge, dear little brother,” George finished.

“Besides, which, you might want to watch what you do.”

“Mum and Dad won’t appreciate it if they have to come get you because you’ve been expelled for being a great big prat.”

“Yeah, even _we_ haven’t done that—”

“—and don’t think we didn’t try.”

Annoyed and fed up with his brothers’ twin act, Ron stood up from the Gryffindor table and stomped out of the Great Hall, determined to ignore them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner in the Great Hall was torture without Harry by his side. Neville, Granger, Lovegood and the Weaslette all carried on like nothing was different as they ate at the Slytherin table, but Harry sat on the _other_ side of Neville and the looks he gave Draco made the blond wiggle in his seat. Even though the house-elves had outdone themselves with the Yorkshire pudding that night, Draco found it impossible to eat more than a few bites before his attention drifted over to his boyfriend.

“Don’t you think, Draco?” Granger asked, kicking him harshly under the table to get his attention for the fourth time.

“Don’t I think what, Hermione?” he responded through clenched teeth. _She’s as bad as Pansy ever was with the violent tendencies. I’ll have a bruise on my shin from her pointy shoes if she does that again._

“Don’t you think that Friday’s Charms lesson was enlightening?” the brunette asked, batting her eyelashes coyly.

He eyed her distastefully, trying to figure out what she was getting at. _Friday’s Charms lesson was about…_ “Yes, I’ve always wondered how to cast a Disillusionment Charm,” he managed to drawl, squirming in his seat as Harry’s eyes all but bored a hole in his head. “It’s about time that they began teaching us spells that will be useful.”

“It is a shame that we don’t really learn many Healing spells,” Ginevra said. “Some of us might like to know them for the future.”

“Well, I’ll admit that it would be nice to know at least the more common spells,” Neville added, “but unless you’re going to be a Healer or a mediwitch or –wizard, I don’t think we’ll need the more advanced or complicated spells.”

“Oh, I’m sure that Professor Flitwick will get around to it,” Lovegood said in her dreamy voice. “Well, if the Hugglesnorts don’t get him first.”

Instead of asking the blonde girl what in the world she was talking about, Draco looked down at his nearly full dinner plate and tried to force his stomach to calm down long enough so that he could eat. Harry’s presence at the table meant that he was going to speak with Draco afterwards—and the looks he was giving were _definitely_ encouraging—but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t nervous about what would happen between them. _I’ll have to apologise at the least,_ he thought, frowning. _That doesn’t mean that we won’t dissolve into shouting_ , yet _again, but I_ hope _that we don’t. Perhaps Mother is right and that I should try to step outside of my comfort area._

Draco looked beyond Neville to see Harry looking at him with wide, dewy, green eyes that made it difficult to breathe. _I want him_ so _much._ His cheeks flamed as he remembered how voracious their appetites were for one another. _I doubt there will be anyone so well suited to me. He_ is _worth a little humbling on my part. No one need know about that other than Harry, Mother, and me._

When Harry stood from the table, mumbling about needing a walk after spending so long in bed, their friends all waved him off while shooting Draco looks of varying degrees of impatience to follow after Harry. The blond waited for the doors of the Great Hall to close quietly behind his boyfriend before he rose to meet him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go apologise for being a prat,” he said gently, earning him smiles from the others.

“It’s about time,” Ginevra teased.

“I agree,” Neville added softly, his brown eyes steady and strong.

_Where did Neville find his backbone to finally stand up to others and stop cowering? I do wish he’d tell me so that I could leech some of that silent strength_ , Draco thought sadly.

One of the Gryffindor’s warm, strong, and large hands rested on Draco’s forearm—where the Dark Mark would rest if his sire had had any say in the matter—and squeezed gently. “Just speak honestly, Draco,” Neville whispered passionately. “Harry will understand, so long as you can control your _own_ temper. He’s not unreasonable, no matter that you’ve always been able to piss him right off.”

Draco nodded, knowing that most of the fights he’d had with Harry over the years were mostly because _he_ was the first to sink into childish remarks and behaviours. “Thank you,” he replied before heading in the direction of the Entrance Hall, and the Room of Requirement beyond that. As he left, he could feel many pairs of eyes on him—some of them friendly, others not, and one that made the space between his shoulder blades itch furiously. However, he didn’t stop to see who it was.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brown eyes so dark they were nearly black followed the progress of Malfoy’s steps as he walked through the Great Hall alone—no doubt chasing after Potter like a whipped puppy. _If only I had the order to take care of that pathetic ponce. Alas, but that honour is being left for Malfoy’s father. It_ is _a shame._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry paced back in forth in the Room of Requirement as he waited for Draco. _I shouldn’t have let him come up here by himself. I should have waited for him down by the doors. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him. No doubt that he left all of our friends in the Great Hall, smirking at his back._ He raised his hands and pulled at his hair in frustration. _I should have taken his letters over the weekend. I shouldn’t have blown up at him. It was just a stupid fight. Oh, Merlin, please don’t let anything happen to Draco. Please…_

The door creaked open and Draco stepped through, safe and sound. Harry, even though he knew that they had so much to talk about, felt relief sweep through him and grabbed the blond up in a tight embrace as the door shut with a soft _snick_ , as if it was on one of the Muggle automatic springs. Draco came to him, soft and pliant, wrapping long and lean arms around Harry’s neck with a shy smile gracing his beautiful mouth.

It was too much, and Harry began ravishing his lover with tongue, teeth, and lips—anything that he could use. Draco helped by wrapping his long legs around Harry’s waist, allowing the frenzied Gryffindor to carry his lover over to the bed that magically appeared, the room sensing their need of it. Harry dropped Draco onto the bed, his eyes drinking in the sight of the flushed, obviously aroused blond as his chest heaved and Draco looked up at him with lust-blown grey eyes. “ _Merlin_ ,” Harry growled before he leaned over and began stripping their clothes with total abandon.

First to go were Draco’s beige cashmere jumper and Harry’s rougher wool jumper. Harry drank in the _absolutely_ fuckable vision of Draco’s pale, lightly muscled chest. He kicked off his shoes without thought as he leaned over to bite one of the pink, hard nubs that teased him with its perfection. As his teeth applied pressure to the silken flesh, Draco let out a moan that went _right_ to Harry’s trapped and straining cock.

With renewed zest, Harry’s hands flew to Draco’s belt buckle, but long-fingered hands grasped his wrists and squeezed gently. Looking up, Harry noticed that Draco was shaking his head as if to clear it. “What?” he growled.

“Need to…talk, Harry,” Draco panted as he attempted to pull himself up into a semi-reclined, sitting position.

“We can talk later,” the dark-haired boy responded, using his superior weight to keep Draco pinned to the bed underneath him.

Draco’s eyes fluttered, but Harry could see his jaw clench and the pressure on his hands increased. “No, we need to talk _now_ ,” the blond persisted.

Knowing his lover’s stubbornness, Harry sighed and put his head on Draco’s chest and got comfortable on top of the Slytherin. “Okay, talk.”

“You’re not even going to move.” It wasn’t a question and Draco’s deep, smooth voice held no audible inflection so Harry knew he wasn’t upset. “Fine. I’m _sorry_. I overreacted to the news of Mother and Amarys staying with Aunt Andromeda at the Black house. Mother and Fred reassured me that I’m an idiot and that I should beg for your forgiveness.”

“They’re right,” Harry muttered, placing a kiss to Draco’s chest. “You should. I don’t need it though. It’s enough that you’re here right now.” He felt a hand running through his messy locks and he smiled fondly.

“Mother and Andromeda and have been speaking via owl. Evidently, Aunt Andromeda and Molly Weasley have been making your house hospitable. She told me there’s even an elf, if one can call it such, that goes with the house.”

“I know. I would have told you if you’d have let me.” The hand in his hair tightened momentarily.

“Yes, again, I’m an idiot,” Draco said huffily. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Harry said quietly, enjoying the intimacy greatly. He was surprised when the hand in his hair yanked his head up and his mouth was attacked by Draco with an intensity that made their previous flailing seem pathetic in comparison.

Not needing further encouragement, Harry resumed stripping them by running his hands down Draco’s legs to his feet before yanking off his expensive loafers. Draco’s hands slid down his flanks, resting on the button and zip of Harry’s jeans. Harry responded by undoing Draco’s belt buckle and unfastening the buttons down the front of his soft, grey, brushed-cotton trousers. Almost as one, both boys pulled down the other’s trousers and pants, letting out identical sighs as the cooler air of the room brushed their heated cocks.

Harry leaned down to kiss Draco possessively as he wriggled out of his jeans and boxers before working on the blond’s clothing. When he had Draco’s trousers around the blond’s knees, he pulled back and stared at the exposed ivory flesh. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Draco,” he whispered reverently before divesting his lover of the restrictive cloth. “I can’t wait until I’m buried inside you.”

Draco moaned, wrapped his lean arms around Harry’s neck, and pulled him down for a bruising kiss.  “Fuck me,” he rasped, gasping when Harry bit his delicate collarbone.

“Gladly,” Harry replied before setting about seeing how many times he could make Draco scream his name before they were done.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco’s eyelids fluttered when Harry Summoned a tube of lube that he’d put into his jean trouser pockets. While a part of him was amused that the dark-haired wizard had thought their conversation would turn out well enough to continue things from where they’d left off on Friday, he couldn’t help but be annoyed at himself for being so predictable. However, when Harry began sucking on his neck and running a lubed finger at his entrance, he lost the power of thought.

As Harry probed his entrance, Draco wrapped his legs around his lover’s waist and lifted his hips up a bit, forcing Harry’s finger deeper into his body. The other boy crooked his digit to stretch the tight ring of muscle while Draco held onto him like a barnacle. Another one was quickly added, making the feeling of being opened increase a thousand fold.

“Harry,” Draco moaned wantonly as one of the other boy’s appendages brushed his prostate. “Please, just fuck me now,” he begged.

His request was met with a guttural sound from his lover as long, broom-calloused fingers departed and were replaced with the tip of Harry’s considerable cock. He looked up into nearly-black eyes and nodded, signalling his readiness to be impaled on that impressive piece of flesh he fantasized about constantly.

Harry did not disappoint him. In a move that felt practiced, he slowly slid into Draco’s greedy body, only stopping when he was buried to the hilt. Both boys breathed deeply, staring into one another’s eyes for a few, long, heady moments.

“Go,” Draco whispered, clenching all the muscles in his lower body. That dragged out a low moan from Harry before the dark-haired teen pulled back until all but the tip of his cock was out of Draco’s hole before slamming his hips forward with enough force that Draco was sure he was going to be bruised in the morning.

“Fuck…Draco…so…bloody…tight,” Harry panted between relentless thrusts, sweat freely flowing down his golden-toned face to splash on the blond’s chest every time.

“Too…much…talking,” Draco rasped, tightening his legs and pulling on Harry’s hair the way he knew the other boy liked.

“Fuck you,” Harry snarled, yanking on Draco’s legs and folding him nearly in half. Every time Harry thrusted viciously forward, his cock brushed against Draco’s prostate.

Draco answered Harry with a low, needy moan as he continued to pull on Harry’s thick, silky locks. That seemed to set Harry off, as he leaned down to increase the crushed feeling he knew Draco loved to trade sloppy, wet kisses while they fucked. “More,” Draco demanded between kisses. “More.”

“Trying little prat,” Harry responded while reaching down to begin wanking Draco off in time with his powerful thrusts. When Harry’s teeth sank into Draco’s bottom lip—breaking skin and drawing blood—the blond began trembling as he came in dizzying spurts all over their chests and Harry’s hand. “ _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck_ ,” Harry growled as his body trembled and his grip lessened on Draco’s cock.

The sensation of Harry’s hot spunk coating his anal cavity made Draco smile stupidly. _No better feeling in the world than being shagged into the bed and Harry collapsed on top of me,_ he thought smugly as he wrapped heavy, sweaty arms around his lover’s neck. “So, we’re okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry muttered as he rubbed his head in the crook of Draco’s neck sleepily.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Voldemort looked down at Lucius as he bowed before him with barely restrained contempt. “Luciussssssss, you mean to tell me that you did not _check_ whether or not it was Narcissssssssa’s body you were going to burn?” His red eyes bored into the top of his lieutenant’s silver-blond head. “Luciussssss, you continue to disappoint me. I find myssssssssssself rather upssssset with you,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry, My Lord,” Lucius muttered.

“Sssssssssssssilenccccccccccce,” Voldemort shouted. “ _Crucio_.”

As Lucius’s screams rang out through the former ballroom of Perfidious Albion, Voldemort watched his gathered followers. Bellatrix seemed to be unnecessarily worried about her brother-in-law, while the Lestrange brothers seemed to be taking adverse pleasure in the regal blond’s punishment. The rest all seemed to be somewhere between relieved that it was not them being tortured and happy to watch as long as it continued. After a Lucius’s screams dropped a few decibels, Voldemort cut the Unforgiveable.

“Rudolphus, bring me Severusssssssssss.”

TBC


	32. Chapter 29 - It's Not That Bad

**Disclaimers and Warnings:** Both are located in chapter 1.

 **Author’s Notes** : Thanks for all the reviews! They continue to make me press on. I had about three-fifths of this done before things fell through, so it’s taken me a minute to find my place again, but I hope that you’re all still with me!

** Chapter Twenty-Nine—It’s Not That Bad **

Harry sat up in bed, his chest heaving and unable to breathe properly. _Fuck, Snape’s in trouble,_ he thought, trying to disentangle himself reluctantly from the warmth and the vice-like grip of Draco’s naked body. _I’ve got to get to Dumbledore’s office right away. Someone needs to get Snape out of there and help the Greengrass girls._

“Harry,” Draco muttered sleepily, cracking one grey eye lethargically. “Where’re you going?” He sat up and wrapped his warm, lean arms around Harry’s back. “Come back to bed.”

“Can’t, Draco,” Harry responded, biting back a frustrated sigh and wiping at the blood from his scar. _Draco_ never _plays fair_. “I gotta go see Dumbledore about my dream.”

 _That_ seemed to catch Draco’s attention. “You had another dream? Was it about my mother and sister?”

“No, not really, it was about Lucius. He knows about them and Snape’s in trouble,” the Gryffindor said through clenched teeth as he looked around for his glasses. A small, startled sound like that of something being stepped on made Harry turn around to see that Draco had gone _pale_ —even more than usual—and looked as if he was going to faint. “Draco, are you all right?”

The blond let out another sound that made Harry worry about Draco’s health. The dark-haired boy gave up trying to look for his glasses and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s body. “Draco, listen to me. I know that you’re worried about your mother and sister. _That_ is why I wanted them out of Hogwarts and behind the Fidelius Charm of my house. Andromeda sent me a letter yesterday saying that the house is ready for them. Please, Draco, we’ve got to get this information to Dumbledore to save Snape and the girls.”

“I know,” Draco whispered. “I’m coming with you. It’s not safe to let you roam alone now that Weasley’s back in the castle,” he said, sounding a little stronger.

“Okay,” Harry replied, feeling relieved as he watched the blond move gracefully from the bed and start to get dressed. He was surprised when his glasses went sailing through the air towards his face. He snatched them like they were a Snitch before they could hit him and flashed his boyfriend a cheeky smile. “Thanks,” he said as he put them on.

“It’s nice to see that your reflexes are still up to par without you playing Quidditch this year, Potter,” Draco snarled playfully as he pulled his soft jumper on. His face scrunched up in disgust. “We need showers, Potter.”

“I know, but that can be taken care of once we’ve seen Dumbledore,” Harry responded as he straightened his jumper and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “If you want, I’ll even follow you down to the Slytherin dorms and we can have breakfast with Narcissa.”

Draco wrapped him into a tight hug that felt as if it would break Harry’s ribs. “Thank you,” he whispered before letting go and making his way towards the room’s door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the morning was spent by the boys helping Narcissa pack and get over to Number 12 Grimmauld Place—the address of the Black house, Draco learned from Dumbledore before his mother was whisked away into the fireplace in the Headmaster’s office. His mother had refused to leave him at Hogwarts without first securing the right to contact her son at any time and with the caveat that he and Harry could visit on the weekends.

When the fireplace whooshed in green flames that devoured the last sight of his beloved mother, Draco felt the little block of ice that had lodged in his heart and throat start to slowly melt since Harry had woken him up. Of course, it helped to have his boyfriend’s hand firmly in his own. It was Harry’s steady presence that kept Draco from trying to follow his mother and sister into the sooty fireplace and relative safety of Harry’s house.

He knew what was next, however. The Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s “secret” organization of fighters dedicated to fighting against the Dark Lord—with or without the Ministry’s help—had orders to rescue Snape and Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. They were to infiltrate Spinner’s End and see if they could get Severus out safely. If that turned out to be impossible, they were to get the girls out.

“Don’t worry, Draco,” Harry whispered as Madame Pomfrey and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore talked softly near the portraits of the former headmasters and –mistresses about Merlin knew what. “Tonks, Kingsley and Bill will make sure that Snape and the Greengrass girls are safe.”

 “I know,” Draco replied before he walked out of the office stiffly. He didn’t stop when he heard Harry’s heavy footsteps behind him, but he _did_ stop for a second to allow the other boy to catch up. “I need to do something to get my mind off of what’s going on. I’m sure that Neville and the others would like to know what’s going on.”

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch if you want to head up to the Great Hall. We could always tell them all at once and get it out of the way,” Harry suggested as he slung an arm around the blond’s waist with a slightly possessive squeeze that made a tiny part of Draco’s petty heart rejoice.

“Of course,” he stated evenly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Explain to me, Severus, how you thought it was acceptable to stage Narcissa’s death and that of Lucius’s unborn child,” Voldemort said calmly as his red eyes bored into the Potion master’s own. “I still have yet to fully grasp why you, as ssssssssmart as you are normally, failed to take into account that Lucius would be able to consult his family tapestry and see that his wife and children live.”

Severus stared back stoically at his former master’s reptilian face and shook his shackled arms to get the circulation to return to his hands. It was a very annoying habit of Voldemort’s to hiss when angered greatly. Any sibilant sound was made to sound as if it was Parseltongue. And it didn’t help that the great snake, Nagini, swayed whenever he did it. Since his resurrection, however, it had become more than just mere affectation and more like he himself was a snake.

“Lucius was as much responsible for keeping Bellatrix away from Narcissa as Rudolphus or Rabastan. Since both Lestrange brothers and Malfoy refused to intervene between the sisters, I felt that as an old friend to Narcissa that I should ensure the safety of her and her unborn child in as much as I could,” he answered flatly.

His black eyes were still as his brain buzzed behind his Occlumency shields. He could feel the Dark Lord attempting to tear into his head, but Severus had spent too long as a spy for both him and Dumbledore to fail now and he only allowed the creature access to the conversation he’d had with Narcissa about her likelihood of surviving a pregnancy in Perfidious Albion with an equally pregnant and unstable Bellatrix ready to attack at any second. This seemed to appease the other man momentarily as he nodded his bald head and stroked the large snake that had draped itself across his lap.

“Yesssssss,” Voldemort hissed as a look of gruesome delight on his twisted face. “However, I demand that you tell me where she is currently residing. Lucius deserves to be with his family.”

 _Really? I doubt that Lucius wants the return of his wife and unborn daughter as much as he wants his hands around the slender neck of my godson,_ Severus thought nastily. “I must regretfully inform you that I have no idea where Narcissa is now. I told her that it would be the only way for her to be truly safe if she told not even myself her destination. Narcissa is the only person who knows exactly where she is.” _Truth, as I don’t know if she is still at Hogwarts or has been moved to other locations._

“I find it difficult to believe that you have no idea where she might be, Severussssss,” the creature crooned dangerously, his wand pointed directly between Severus’s black eyes. “I have no _wish_ to kill you, as your skills are so valuable. However, if you continue to engage in this _farce_ , I shall have no choice.”

 _I shall not beg you, creature._ Snape’s face remained passive and he refused to say anything.

“You leave me no choice then. We will see how long you can last now, Severussssss,” Voldemort hissed as he raised his wand to curse him.  However, the door to the chamber banging open and a bloodied, bedraggled Travers stumbling in staid his hand. “What is the meaning of this!?”

“My Lord, they’re here. The Order, they’ve breached the defences.” Travers’s ugly face twitched as he continued. “They’re being led by Aurors.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Harry and Draco reached the Great Hall for lunch, Neville, Ginny, and Luna were all sitting at their normal spots at the nearly empty Slytherin table. Both boys noticed a very important person missing and exchanged looks before joining their friends. However, Harry couldn’t eat, uncomfortable with the lack of Hermione. Instead of tucking into the delicious looking fare before him, he turned to Ginny and elbowed her gently. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going to study in the library,” the redheaded girl said sadly. “I don’t think that’s what’s wrong though. She and Ron had another row this morning.”

Harry could feel his jaw clench at that news. It wasn’t really surprising, but it hurt nonetheless. The subject of their fight wasn’t even anything new, he guessed. With a shaky sigh, he pushed his plate away from him. “I’m going to go talk to her. Draco can fill you in on what happened this morning, yeah? I’ll see you guys with ‘Mione later.” The rest of the table nodded in reply, but as Harry left, he knew that a pair of silvery eyes watched him.

Instead of going to the library, Harry ducked into the girls’ bathroom, the one that had had to be remodelled after Quirrell had let in that mountain troll Halloween of their first year. It had been a hunch, but he found his best friend staring at her reflection with red, puffy eyes and tear tracks streaking her face. The sight was like a punch to the gut, making him feel guilty for not spending enough time with her as of late and for the ungenerous thoughts he’d had earlier in the year about her.

“I could beat the crap out of him like I did to Draco in Fifth Year. No Umbridge to assign me detention.” He was making light of the torture he faced under that toad-faced reign of terror, but Hermione would know he was more than just a little serious.

Her watery smile was answer enough and he came over to hug her tightly. “It wouldn’t do much good, Harry, but thanks.”

“We could find another troll and set it on him? I mean, how hard could it be? Quirrell did it by himself, yeah?”

That got the reaction he was waiting for when she burst out laughing and pulled away. However, he wasn’t really ready when she started crying again. “Why does he hate us so much?” she wailed, looking as miserable as he’d ever seen her. He pulled him against her again, surprised to find that the top of her head came to his chin, finally.

He took a deep breath before he answered her though. “Honestly, it’s probably about Draco as much as anything. Or the fact that I kept secrets from him again. Or the fact that he’s a jealous, unreasonable prick who hasn’t outgrown being jealous of everyone he thinks has more or better than he does. Take your pick.”

Hermione let out a pained squeak and Harry realized that he was holding her too tight and loosened his grip but didn’t let her go. “He wants me to drop both Draco and Neville and beg for his forgiveness.” He scowled, his reflection as menacing as he could get as he spoke again. “It’ll never happen. I lo-care too much for Draco to drop him and Neville’s been a great mate since First Year. It’d be like cutting you out at this point.”

If she caught that slip—and he had no doubt she did by the sharp look in her tear-filled eyes—Hermione was at least gracious enough to not make a big deal of it. And Harry was grateful for that, since he hadn’t told Draco yet how deeply he felt for the other boy.

“Neville _is_ rather amazing this year. Of course, wasn’t he the one to tackle both Crabbe and Goyle first year during a Quidditch match while Ron and Draco got into a fist fight?” Her eyes sparkled with both mischief and unshed tears and Harry relaxed, reaching into his pocket for the handkerchief he knew his boyfriend had no doubt shoved into it. He wasn’t disappointed and his best friend was pleased as she wiped her eyes. “Although, he’s not the only one to have changed over the past few months, is he?”

Harry responded with an embarrassed laugh, steering her towards the door, ignoring the indignant squeal of a third year Hufflepuff girl as she entered into the lavatory. “You know, I’d forgotten about that scene, honestly, but Nev’s been pretty much pulling his own weight in the fierce department when it counts for years now. He’s just quiet about it.”

“Well, he _is_ a Gryffindor, as were both his parents. And with that grandmother of his,” she said with a shudder.

“Oh, yeah, Nev’s Gran is a tough old bird. Almost as tough as that vulture on her hat she always wears.”

“Best not to let her hear you say that.” As they headed to the Great Hall, Harry could see his best friend staring at the damp cloth in her hands, but he was bad at reading her facial expressions and nervous habits as of late. “You know, I was rather rude to Draco when you two talked to me, but you haven’t said anything about that.”

Harry sighed. This conversation had been in the making all year and even knowing that didn’t make him want to have it. “I’m not here to police your actions with Draco, ‘Mione. You two get along and you don’t antagonize him on purpose. You’ve respected that he’s trying to be more…friendly to you and that’s all I can ask from you. He was a right little shite when we were younger to all of us, but he’s been trying to prove that he doesn’t want to be Lucius’s clone anymore. ‘Course, far as I know, he hasn’t apologized to you about all the things he called you before last year either, so fair’s fair in this case.” He ran a hand through his hair, keeping the other around her shoulders. “So, whether apologies happen or not, I won’t force you. I’m just grateful that you’re both willing to be civil for my sake.”

“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, Harry. If I want to stay your friend, I know enough to play nice with your boyfriend.” She scrunched up her nose before smiling widely at her best friend. “Besides, now that he’s not calling me Mudblood and sneering all the time, he’s rather pretty to look at. And it’s more obvious when you’re paying attention to him.”

“He _is_ rather pretty, isn’t he?” Harry asked, thinking about the way that Draco’s grey eyes turned almost silver when they talked alone.

“I always thought so, but only if his mouth was shut.”

“Hermione!”

She laughed at his mock-outrage, pulling from under his arm and through the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall’s doors. “You know it’s true, Harry. But, I’ll admit that he’s gotten a lot better as of late. It must be your influence.”

His response was stalled by the heavy doors opening and a group of people exiting. Harry didn’t even have to look at who it was because Hermione went completely still.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

TBC  
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